


What It Takes

by zerogravity



Category: B.A.P
Genre: CIA, Crime, F/M, Multi, One Shot, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-29 10:35:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 40
Words: 153,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zerogravity/pseuds/zerogravity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mafia crime lords fight over stolen US money plates and B.A.P. stand at the front, forming a skilled and deadly group of agents. Personal grudges and a history of betrayals form the backdrop, while the CIA strive to track them down and reclaim their property. Conception of this story is based off the One Shot MV, but the plot expands into multiple OC's on each side of the conflict. Rated M for drugs, crime, sex, and death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: We do not own any recognizable characters or organizations in this story. We are not making any monetary profit either, so don’t be jealous of us. Be jealous of TS Entertainment. The members names of B.A.P. are only borrowed here to inspire our (and hopefully, your) imaginations. Any resemblance to the actual B.A.P. is coincidental, except in regards to Kang Ji Won’s, Kim Ki Bum’s, and the MV’s director’s conceptual ideas for the One Shot. We basically took our character’s physical appearances and plot ideas from that video. Of course, then we made it our own.
> 
> Reviews are incredibly welcome, so please leave us your thoughts! We have the entire story outlined, but we’d love to see where you think we’re going with this.
> 
> Now, a couple of separate notes: 
> 
> S: I started to have ideas for the plot of this story when I finished watching One Shot. Which took place about a year ago…? Don’t really remember the time well. Originally I did not want to start writing it simply because I didn’t have the story thought out clearly. Not until I told my friend and cousin about the plots and they liked it so much which they encouraged me to go ahead and start out with an outline. We came up with many different ideas and really had fun with the plot and character developments. We were able to put our thoughts in order and create a complex storyline in which I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> C: So this story was originally thought up by S and her friend L. When S asked me to help translate their pages of dialogue into prose, I was leery at first. Mafia is not my strong point, so anything in that area, including anything hard to stomach, please direct to S. :) However, let me assure you, the plot is pretty damn awesome, or I wouldn’t be writing this. 
> 
> I’m a editor/writer. The style is mine, in syntax, diction, and flow. Let me know if I mess up somewhere.  
> Oh, and I added the third party--which you’ll come to eventually--in order to fill out the story (and to make my job harder, because I’m a glutton for punishment). 
> 
> Be forewarned, I enjoy writing in many different points of view and what a particular character says or does is not necessarily reflective of my own beliefs. That said, I love our characters, good or bad (but especially the flawed ones). I hope you all love them, too. 
> 
> BOTH: Thanks for clicking on our story!

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

PROLOGUE

 

_Korea, Location: Mansion_

 

Him-chan Kim lingered in the opulent hallway. He was only ten but he knew a significant conversation when he heard one. Never mind that he was not supposed to be listening to this talk in particular; that was why he was crouched in an alcove just beside the parlor door, after all.

That man was here, again. The one who took him away from the orphanage when Him-chan was barely six. Although that lonely place his parents had left him at was nowhere he’d willing return, Him-chan still wanted to know what exactly the man wanted from him.

Every day, Him-chan woke up, put on expensively made clothes, ate a finely cooked breakfast, and then met with distinguished-looking tutors. The schoolwork was simple at first, then increased in intensity. Luckily, Him-chan liked learning. Math and reading were normal enough. Even having all his needs carefully attended to as if money were no issue could be explained. It was when he had turned eight that he realized he was being groomed for something.

For the past two years, after every morning spent on books, Him-chan was led to the dojo. There, under careful, but relentless, supervision from his sensei, he practiced Tae-Kwon Do all afternoon.

Him-chan smiled ruefully, and glanced over at the other shadow across the door, who was also eavesdropping. The other girl had arrived at the mansion six months into Him-chan’s new physical regimen, and had quickly dubbed the renowned martial art as “How to Kick Ass.”

Their teacher had lectured her for an hour after he heard her, telling her how her lack of respect for the art would ruin her discipline and undermine all his hard work. The older girl had listened diligently, but rolled her eyes good-naturedly at Him-chan once Sensei looked away.

Noona had since been a bright, jovial light in Him-chan’s world. A mischievous one, if anything, but at the moment her face was solemn.

“T.S. brought in another boy,” she suddenly whispered.

“T.S.? That’s his name?” Him-chan replied in the same hushed voice. Strange. The man had never told him that, even if he had sort of adopted him.

“Well?” she continued, “What are they talking about?”

Him-chan turned back to the door. Through the sliver of light beyond, he spied T.S. and Jun-ho, the mansion’s manager, talking. Him-chan focused on T.S.’s lips.

“This one’s special,” Him-chan voiced, “T.S. looks serious. He’s saying…” he paused, squinting, “he says that something happened to this boy’s mother. She didn’t give him away. She died. So T.S. took him here to live here now, and train with us.”

The girl frowned.  

“Do you know what they’re talking about, Noona?” Him-chan inquired. She kept silent.

The voices suddenly drew closer. Him-chan quickly backed up behind a large vase, but his companion did not move.

Jun-ho opened the door. T.S. followed, pulling a cigarette out of his tailored suit pocket. He stopped short of lighting it when he caught sight of Noona standing in the hall. She fixed him with a stare.

“T.S.” she said, “May I speak with you?”

T.S. raised his eyebrows, “About what, now?” a warm smile crossed his face, “You look very well by the way. Much better than the last time I saw you.”

“Thanks to you,” the eleven-year-old answered, “And I don’t want to complain or anything…I just want to talk to you about the boy you just brought in. ”

T.S. gave her a long look. Then he nodded and turned back towards the parlor, motioning for her to come with him.

“Jun-ho, bring us some hot tea,” T.S. ordered. Jun-ho bowed and left.

Him-chan remained still, and pressed his ear to the door.

After that night, Noona left with T.S.

Him-chan saw her now and again, but she no longer resided at the mansion with him. Instead, the boy, whose name was Yong-guk, eventually joined him in his studies, proving to be quite intelligent.

At first, Yong-guk was taciturn at best, and Him-chan could not blame him. Him-chan never had a mother, but if he had, he’d miss her, too, he supposed. Then one day, Him-chan had grown tired of being careful, and simply nailed Yong-guk across the cheek with a right jab during a spar.

Yong-guk had gaped at him, stunned, from the floor. And then he had smiled. Him-chan helped him up, and Yong-guk clasped his hand. They nodded at each other, and moved on.

The two of them became fast friends, after that day, and over the next few years, witnessed their group growing. Four more boys came to live with them at the mansion. There was Dae-hyun, who could get away with anything with his angelic face. Next came Jong-up, who smiled like a toddler, but hit like a bull. Jun-hong, who insisted on being called “Zelo,” hacked the computers on his second day there just to buy himself a new video game, and finally, a teen named Young-jae, who enjoyed being cocky and extremely competitive.

T.S. named them B.A.P. one New Year’s day, and proceeded to explain what exactly they had been trained for all those years. Him-chan’s theories over time were confirmed.

They were now a mafia lord’s specialized hit squad.

 


	2. Uprooted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot begins...with an original character: Samantha, a girl uprooted from a regular college life and hurled into a situation no free person would want to find themselves. Stay with her. She'll be important.

 

_Salem, Oregon_

Samantha dashed into the airport, bag flying behind her. She reached back to pull it through the automatic doors, managing to shake off the rain from the bag at the same time, not breaking her rapid stride. She definitely could not miss her best friend’s flight back to Seoul, South Korea. Kayla was only leaving to join her family for holidays, but still, it was a month early. Sam didn’t know how Kayla had arranged for her finals to be done all online, but Sam wished she’d stay—as a study buddy if nothing else.

Thankfully, Kayla was standing at the security entrance line, obviously waiting. Samantha shouted a greeting and an apology as she drew up beside her friend. Kayla smiled, chiding gently. Sam just smiled back. All these years in university, Samantha was always late.

The two girls hugged and exchanged goodbye gifts. Kayla had made Sam a handmade heart ribbon. Sam gave her a red rose.

“This isn’t a good bye. You must promise that you’ll be back,” Sam mumbled in a broken voice, trying to contain her tears.

Kayla gave a faint smile and nodded. Sam pulled herself together. Kayla never balked whenever Sam became too emotional, never asked why she spent so much time with her best friend instead of any family. For that, Sam was grateful. Family was a rather…empty subject for her.

The two women exchanged words once more. Then Kayla turned, and with one last reassuring look over her shoulder, passed beyond the security gate.

 

()()()()()()

_One week later_

Sam continued on her usual routine of classes and cramming for finals. A few days slipped by without any calls or text messages from Kayla. Sam started to worry—just a little. She knew Kayla had told her not to do so. She would be back after New Year’s Eve after all. One short month was no time at all. A week passed. Sam finally phoned Kayla’s caretaker who stated simply that Kayla was just busy with school and work. Sam understood. Kayla often got so focused, time was the least item on her agenda. Nevertheless, Sam could not help but feel just a bit ignored.

Later that night, Sam dreamed of Kayla being murdered. She was screaming in fear, her eyes wide as she fell backwards, arms outstretched upward. Her body hit the water hard, white spray going every which way. But the splashing never stopped. There was a flailing hand, a whip of wet black hair, a gurgled shriek—and then, sharp teeth and dorsal fins, swishing tails and lightning speeds. It was a vicious and hungry frenzy, and all Sam could feel was horror.

The water was scarlet.

Sam jolted awake, drenched in sweat. She fought the urge to vomit, sucking in big gulps of air. What had mercifully pulled her from that horrific nightmare?

Noises thumped abruptly outside the living room of her apartment complex. She slowly pulled her legs free of the blanket and reached for the gun under her bed. Kayla and she had both bought one after their self-defense classes, upon Kayla’s insistence. They were two women who lived alone, after all, she had reasoned. It couldn’t hurt to be careful.

So far they had practiced shooting at the range together a total of two times.

The metal felt very cold in her palm.

Suddenly her bedroom door banged wide open. Sam swung her arm around, gun in hand, heart racing. Before she could even brace herself to shoot and possibly kill another human being, rough hands were upon her. The masked, muscular men grabbed her about the shoulders and shoved her to the ground. The gun was wrestled from her hands easily. Sam opened her mouth to scream, but another hand clamped down on her lips. A rope found its way around her wrists, her arms pulled tightly in front of her. A blindfold then blocked her sight. Sam’s terror skyrocketed. _No, no, no!_ She was just about to try begging them to let her go when she felt a sharp blow to the nape of her neck. Pain lanced across her skull, and Sam fell, unconscious.

()()()()()()

Sam woke up freaking out. From the way the sounds echoed off the walls, she was in a large open room. _Warehouse, maybe?_ She could hear several people speaking in different languages. Sam had no idea where she was. A man yelled nearby. A few whimpers and sobs from somewhere beside her quickly subsided. So there were other female prisoners? Cautiously, Sam reached up and pulled down the blindfold. She squinted past the initial spears of bright light.

She and a group of other women, hands similarly bound, sat in a cell. Several men stood outside, the same type as those who kidnapped her. One of the men approached, pulling out a key to open the cell door. He barked an order, then entered and grabbed the arm of one of the girls, dragging her forward. She started to cry, struggling weakly. Once they crossed the cell doorway, the girl’s legs seem to give out. She was distraught, sobbing hysterically, nonsensical pleas falling from her lips. The door remained ajar while the man bellowed at her to shut up, pulling at her hair roughly.

Sam didn’t think twice. She took the opportunity and rushed through the open passage. After a split second of shock, the other females followed, clamoring for a chance of escape. The guards immediately started shouting. Out of the corner of her eye, Sam saw one of them tackle a woman to the ground. Her head hit the floor with a crack, and she was silent. Another shot of adrenaline zipped up Sam’s spine. She had to get out of here now!

From the yells and cries echoing behind her Sam could tell many women were recaptured, but she could not let herself look back. She pumped her legs, like she did when she ran at the gym-- _but, oh my god, this is so not the gym!--_ focused on the goal ahead: a propped open door that led out to what looked like a wooden bridge. Sam ran, entirely expecting a bullet to lodge itself in her back.

She finally reached the doorway and flung herself through it, unscathed. Luckily, no one had started shooting. Sam quickly looked around, eyes taking in the long wooden dock, the setting sun, and the large freighter she had just escaped. The room had been a cargo hold of ship!

Two women suddenly burst past the doorway as well, both looking as scared as she felt. One kept on running down the dock, her wrinkled skirt streaming behind her. The other glanced at Sam for a moment. A shout echoed from within, definitely getting closer.

Sam and the other woman ran.

Sam could feel from the vibrations in the wood when the much bigger men reached the dock. Their footsteps beat heavily, just like her heart. Sam peered ahead to the shoreline. The first woman who had kept running was veering toward the line of cars past the sparse trees. There was a gated fence there, though, and Sam was pretty sure it would be locked. They had been very fortunate to find an opened door in the first place.

What in the world to do now? _Either way, I’m not getting caught pressed up against a fence! They’d shoot me or do worse because I tried to escape, right?_

Sam slowed down a bit, and quickly turned onto another wooden cross-way, one headed toward other boats moored at port. The second woman did not seem to care, or else thought Sam was crazy, because she kept running forward. Sam did not have time to worry about her, because she was beginning to rethink her decision.

The sun was gone over the horizon by now, and the shadows were creeping up around her. Sam tried to focus. Which boat could she hide in? Would it even do any good? Those men would be after her soon anyway. She had to get out of sight.

Sam leaped at best she could over the railing of an unassuming white boat with a large aft deck. It was difficult with her hands still tied in front of her, but she could not spare a thought to complain about it at the moment. There was a tarp covering a bundle of ropes, and she quickly threw herself underneath as well, hoping that it was big enough to cover her feet.

She could still hear a lot of shouting. One of the other women screamed. Then footsteps sounded on the cross-way Sam had taken. _Still far off_ , Sam thought. More shouting. They were definitely searching for her. Sam closed her eyes, and tried to breathe evenly. _This was stupid, Sam, what now? What now?_

She could not bring herself to surrender. She was too terrified of what they’d do to her. There was only one other option she could think of, but could she manage it with the ropes about her wrists? She’d have to.

Not giving herself a chance to second-guess her choice, Sam threw the tarp off, grabbed a hold of the railing, and threw her body over it.

The water hit her like sharp glass. _Shit!_ The breath was knocked out of her lungs, her muscles seized in shock. Sam had not expected the water to be so cold, with the air above feeling rather tropical. Struggling to keep moving, she kicked her legs, and moved her arms forward. Somehow, she managed to swim.

Again and again, she kicked and moved, gulping in air when she could. There were lights farther along the shore. Perhaps if she made it there, she could find somebody, anybody, to call the police.

Sam kept swimming. It was fully dark now. Hopefully, no random boat would hit her. She would drown then. What a way to go. It seemed to last forever, hours, who knew, before all at once, her arms hit sand, and she reached down with her legs and found she could stand up. She had reached land!

Exhausted, Sam pulled herself up out of the water. Her clothes felt like they weighed two tons. The ropes on her hands seemed like they had shrunk in the water, they were so tight. _Ignore it. Get help, Sam! Run for your life, you idiot!_ Somehow, she forced her legs forward and started to run.

Twenty minutes later, Sam found herself in an unfamiliar neighborhood. Only a couple lamps shone through the blackness of night, so she headed toward one of them. She did not think anyone was following her. There were no angry shouts, no echoing footsteps. She slowed to a walk, and continued past building after building. It was late enough now that there wasn’t anybody in sight. Most had probably gone home. What Samantha wouldn’t give to be home this instant!

Lost, hungry, and cold, Sam’s strength began to wane. The adrenaline was seeping out of her muscles, leaving her shaking in the aftermath. Finally, her legs gave out, and she fell down at a random street corner. She laid sprawled on the concrete sidewalk, too tired to try to stay vertical. Would someone find her? Would those men find her?

The last thing Sam saw was a sign on the side of the building she had collapsed by; it read: Los Manos de Santa Maria Orfanato.

_How ironic,_ Sam thought, before fatigue claimed her.

()()()()()()()()

“Cómo está usted? Qué pasé? Señorita?”

Sam was woken by a teenaged boy speaking Spanish, a concerned expression on his tanned face.

She was still lying on the sidewalk, from what her aching back told her. The sky was lightening, maybe just before sunrise, Sam thought blearily. The boy said something else, and she gave him a confused frown. The boy seemed to understand that she spoke a different language, because he closed his mouth, and signaled with his hands that she should follow him.

Well, the boy didn’t seem to be a scary kidnapping crazy person, so Sam sat up. It was then that she realized her wrists weren’t tied anymore. Softly touching her chafed skin, she looked up at the boy, surprised. He pointed to the ropes laying in the gutter. Sam smiled in gratitude. With his help, she got to her sore feet, and followed him down the street.

They soon arrived at a small, shabby-looking house. It was clearly abandoned from the way portions in the wall were peeling. Graffiti lined any intact sections, and parts of the windows were boarded up. However, Sam needed shelter so she entered without worrying any more. She just wanted to sleep.

There were two doors aside from the entrance. One led to a bathroom, which Sam somehow utilized without falling over. The other was a bedroom. The boy helped her pull her feet onto the twin mattress and arranged the pillow. He said something that probably meant, “Sleep,” then pulled the door closed behind him as he left.

 

The next morning, Sam wanted to find the police to report her abduction. Her whole body throbbed though, so she had to spend some time stretching out her limbs. As she stretched, she thought. She had nothing except the dirty clothes on her back. No identification, no money, no proof of the crime—her kidnappers’ faces had all been covered—and no way to get back home on her own. _Yeah, and who would be waiting for me back in Oregon anyway?_ Sam thought miserably. Kayla had been her only friend there. _Oh, what am I going to do now? I’m…stuck here._

The young teen chose that moment to enter, food in hand. He signed for Sam to “eat,” then introduced himself as Hector. Sam gave him hers in return, thanking him in English. She knew her voice was garbled with choked back tears. Even so, Hector understood well enough. Sam ate slowly. She had nowhere to go after all; there was no rush. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: We do not own any recognizable characters or organizations in this story. We are not making any monetary profit either, so don’t be jealous of us. Be jealous of TS Entertainment. The members names of B.A.P. are only borrowed here to inspire our (and hopefully, your) imaginations. Any resemblance to the actual B.A.P. is coincidental, except in regards to Kang Ji Won’s, Kim Ki Bum’s, and the MV’s director’s conceptual ideas for the One Shot. We basically took our character’s physical appearances and plot ideas from that video.


	3. Hired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samantha finds what she hopes to be a solution to her stranded status, but are these people what they seem? Well, we'll find out when she meets...the men, right?
> 
> WARNING: This is a long-ass chapter. I hate exposition, but they're OC's. It needed to be done. Read fast. I promise B.A.P. makes an appearance!

 

_1 year later_

The sun shimmered off the crystalline waters of the bay. Fluffy clouds lazed above to a cooling breeze, projecting yet another day of Caribbean perfection. Several luxury yachts bobbed in the water, anchored at the maze of docks. A pier overlooked the collection of boats, sporting a square, two-story building. Its walls boasted ceiling-to-floor windows, lending an excellent view of the bay.

Kim Le flipped the sign on the glass door to “open,” and unlocked the top and bottom hinges. Another day on the job, another day for _Le Yacht_ to sell some high-end yacht rentals for upper class society recreational use.

Kim considered herself one of the best in the business, though she was but twenty-four years old. Her father had started teaching her management skills years ago, long before she could legally hold a job. Considering the fact that her father was Derek Le, billionaire Southeast Asia businessman, most people who met her didn’t question her skills. _It has nothing to do with the fact that most people also know my father as a mafia lord, of course,_ Kim mentally chuckled. They wouldn’t mess with her, period, due to her pedigree.

Nevertheless, over the years, Kim had ensured that she could hold her own among the rich personas. She did not like leaning on the wariness her father’s protective shadow provoked in her clients. That sort of suspicion was bad for long-term business, after all. So, Kim developed a blunt efficiency that usually sliced pass any bullshit they tried to throw on her. Most described her as “bossy,” in kind, but Kim liked to take it as a compliment.

The only person who seemed unfazed by her razor-sharp attitude was the very person lounging on the spacious lobby sofa as Kim turned around.

“Daaaad, must you wear those atrocious shirts every day?” Kim asked, letting the whine she had perfected during her teenaged years into her voice.

Her father glanced at her, and took a bit out of his mango. “Ah, my little Kimmie, what’s wrong with this shirt? We’re in Puerto Rico now, not Korea. I should dress like the locals.”

“Oh please. One, the locals do _not_ wear tropical-flowered button downs every day. Two, you totally wore those clothes back home, too, like I’d forget. And three, it only makes it worse they you have that glittering medallion necklace, all those rings, that Rolex, those bracelets, and—oh my god, is that an earring?” Kim walked up to her father and narrowed her eyes. Sure enough, a small diamond stud perched innocently on his left ear lobe. 

“When did you--”

“Now, Kimmie--”

“Don’t ‘Kimmie’ me, Da--”

“Kimmie, my little Kimmie!” Derek slung his arm about his daughter merrily. Kim rolled her eyes, “I am getting on in age, my dear. Sometimes this old man needs to maintain a youthful image. For the clients!”

“So this is your mid-life crisis?”

“No,” he tried. Kim arched an eyebrow, “Okay…. Maybe.”

“Uh-huh. Well, would you mind changing? We’re professionals, Father. We should look like it.”

Derek affected an expression that would scream “lost puppy” if not for the fact that he was forty-six years and counting. On him, the pouting lips only made Kim cross her arms.

“Oh, come now, Kimm—ah, I mean, dearest daughter,” Derek implored, “You are dressed appropriately enough for the both of us.”

Kim glanced down at her formal two-piece suit jacket and skirt. Underneath, she had chosen a sleeveless silk tank-top that helped her keep cool, and had bound her long caramel-brown curls into a ponytail. Her make-up was flawless, and her feet sported dark purple high heels.

“I’m going to town today, anyway. No need to dress-up,” Derek continued, “Would you like me to buy you something? A pretty gem, for my beautiful daughter?”

Kim sighed.

“I don’t want any more jewelry, Appa,” Kim turned back to the front desk, leafing through papers for the day. There was a lot of work to get done, and the piles of forms from yesterday still seemed as daunting as last night when she closed up.

Over the past thirteen months, _Le Yacht_ had gained popularity quickly with high-profile renters and buyers. Some had even been celebrities. Kim could be smug about her success all she wanted; the paperwork still took an incredible amount of time. Maybe it was time to get a secretary or something.

Her other employees tended more distant duties, and reported to her every other day. Kim needed someone to man the main office here, and be her back-up brain, in a sense.

Her father perceived her mood change, and set the fruit down on his plate.

“Kim.”

Kim took a breath, and met his eyes. She noticed his hesitation, knew what caused it. She looked like her mother more and more every day, and some times, neither of them could break the silence, lost in memories that a decade ago came to abrupt end.

Kim could feel the tears forming and looked away.

“Kim,” her father repeated, voice firmer, “I know we moved here in a hurry a year ago. And I know you know that it was necessary. We left our home, but we cannot have a repeat of what happened ten years ago. Protecting you is top priority for me.” 

“How can you say that, Appa? Top priority right now should be finishing our revenge on--” Kim cut off suddenly. The gate leading to the pier had rattled open.

The two turned in that direction, catching sight of a young lady, around Kim’s age, it seemed, approaching the _Le Yacht_ doors.

Kim took another breath, trying to push her feelings back into submission. Her father’s hand came to rest on her shoulder for a moment in comfort. Then he resumed his breakfast. Kim could see his eccentric side slide over his features without a hitch. She wished she was that skilled. But alas, her emotions normally resisted being suppressed. _I’d sleep better, if that was the case._

The door opened, a breeze following the woman who entered. She smiled brightly.

“Are you guys hiring?” she asked.

Kim’s father eyed her for a while before speaking.

The woman had a typical Asian physique. Long straight black hair, slightly tanned skin, rounded nose, and high cheek-bones. She spoke with an American accent, though, and met Kim’s eyes when she asked her question. Her dimpled cheeks carried a contagious innocence. Kim felt her melancholy lift slightly.

“We’re not hiring,” Kim’s father replied dismissively.

“Dad,” Kim immediately corrected, “I need help around here.”

“What? I don’t see no help wanted sign anywhere,” he had reverted to his old-man-trying-to-be-hip speech.

“Are you blind? Go outside and take a look again,” Kim gestured to the door impatiently. She knew their argument was not over, but also knew it was not likely to be solved now. No, now, Kim was going to get some work done, god dammit!

Derek looked at Sam again, “Whatever. You do what you want, Kimmie. I gotta go.” He grinned and left.

Kim could have smacked her forehead. He didn’t even take any of the papers with him! He promised he’d help her with at least a fourth of the stack.

The woman looked nonplussed at Derek’s retreating form, then turned back to Kim.

“I hope I wasn’t interrupting,” she ventured anxiously.

Kim shook her head and smiled tightly, “Oh, not at all. My father’s not one to stick around for long conversations anyway. He’s got such a short attention span.”

Kim sat down at her desk with huff. She knew she was being a bit rough with the papers, but, hey, they didn’t have feelings.

“I just can’t help but noticed how frazzled you look. I take it he’s the reason?” the other woman asked.

Kim shrugged, “Ah, well, fathers,” and left it at that. 

“So are you hiring or not? Because I saw a help wanted sign...”

  
“Yes I am!” Kim confirmed, “Sit down.”

The young lady sat.

Kim quickly yanked two packets out of her file cabinet and plopped it in front of the woman. Then she turned back to review the files from yesterday’s pile.

“Fill those out and give me your ID,” Kim stated, turning to the file folders.

“What? So….I’m hired?” Her mouth turned down in confusion.

“Can you read?” Kim asked, still focused on the papers.

“Yes. English mostly, and working on more Spanish, now,” she admitted. 

“Data entry?”

“I can type sufficiently well.”

“Good. Can you be on time, work at least five days a week, answer a phone, and be perfectly professional?”

“Of course,” she answered, back straight. Kim finally looked up, eyes measuring. The woman seemed confident and lively. Good characteristics for a secretary. Young enough for _Le Yacht’s_ fresh image.

“Then you’re hired!” Kim declared.

“Oh,” she replied, and to her credit, she went on without protest, “Um...ok! Great! Thanks!”

Kim handed her a pen and resumed typing. Several seconds later, the woman spoke.

“I don’t have an ID.”

Kim stopped typing and frowned, “Of course you do. Everybody has one. Unless you’re an illegal alien?”

“Well...,” _Ah, dammit,_ Kim thought. The woman was pulling on her hair nervously, eyes averted, staring down at her lap, “It’s kind of hard to explain….”

“Sorry,” Kim refused coldly, “I don't hire illegal residents. Best try your luck elsewhere, _chica_.”

“No, please,” she begged, biting her lip, “Nowhere else is hiring right now. Please, I just need to make enough money to save up for a way home.”

She did seem earnest. Kim sighed, “Where's home?”

“I'm from the States. A year ago I was abdu—well, I-I ended up stuck here...I...It's...a long story. Look, if you could just let me work for a while, I promise I won't bring you any trouble. I’m a quick learner, and I have three years of accounting under my belt. I know well enough how an office functions. And I'll leave after I save up enough money.”

Her face showed hints of desperation, Kim could tell. She saw it often around this city. There seemed to be an abundance of young women who had that look, as if they were searching for a means of escape. Unfortunately, the looks did not last very long. Almost all those women belonged to certain people who ran a certain group in San Juan, Puerto Rico, and they quickly stomped out ideas of freedom. Her father, criminal though he may be, would have straightened them out as soon as they had moved here if Kim and he weren’t technically supposed to be in hiding.

If Kim’s suspicions were correct, the reason for this woman’s lack of ID was probably not her fault at all.

The woman realized the moment that Kim had worked it out, and said, “I went to the police but they were no help.”

Kim let out a sarcastic laugh.

“Honestly, the police here are a bunch of worthless good-for-nothing hoodlums who take bribes. You have to do everything on your own,” She paused, “Alright, you’re hired.”

“What...really?”

“Yeah. Guess I kinda fell for your puppy-dog eyes. You said you do have some skills already. Why not?”

“So...it's all right that I can’t provide any identification?” Sam confirmed.

“We can always make you a fake ID,” Kim said nonchalantly, “but don't worry about it. As long as you can do your job right, we’ll be fine. The start is $15.00 an hour and there will be a raise depending on your performance.”

The woman looked stunned, as if she could not believe her luck. She didn’t protest, though, so Kim continued, voice in a practiced professional cadence. 

“You show up here at seven o’clock every morning to open. Lunch is at noon for an hour and we close at nine. Here’s an employee procedure manual, read through it and sign at the bottom.”

“Okay…” the woman looked like the sun had come out just for her, “Thank you! Thank you so much Ms. … um, I’m sorry but I didn’t catch your name.”

Kim pointed at the front of the procedure manual.

“Kim Le, as in the “Le” on our business name.”

“Oh, so it’s not the “Le” as in French for “the.” It’s actually your last name?”

“It’s genius isn’t it?” Kim grinned playfully, “And speaking of names, what’s yours, my newly devoted employee?”

“Sam. Samantha, actually. Samantha Pham,” the two shook hands.

It took about ten minutes for an excited Sam to fill out all the paperwork and hand them back to Kim to review.

“I need your phone number too,” Kim stipulated.

“I don’t own a phone,” Sam confessed, swiping her hair back behind an ear.

“I need a home phone, then,” Kim conceded.

Sam just shook her head no.

“Are you serious?” What sanctuary had taken this girl in? How was she hiding from those people? Kim knew, of course, that she wasn’t turn Sam away in any case, “Okay whatever. Just be here tomorrow at 7 o’clock.”

“Thank you so much! You are so, very, awesome Ms. Le!” 

“Just Kim is fine. We’re the same age, you know.”

Sam nodded quickly, thanked her profusely once more, then practically bounced out the door in bliss.

()()()()()()()()

Sam met Hector at the door that evening the moment he came home. 

“I did it! I got a job!” she announced ecstatically.

Hector eyed her jumping up and down, “Really? Congratulations! I can see you’re excited. You’re like a caffeinated bunny.”

Sam stopped bouncing. Then shrugged and bounced off into the kitchenette. She was just too happy to care. Finally, she had an actual job! She wouldn’t have to scrape by on whatever odd errands she and Hector could scrounge. And perhaps she could stop depending on Hector so much, too.

Sam had quickly learned that Hector Aldeo was a true saint. At twenty-one, he had decided to move out of the orphanage a few weeks before the lucky night that he found Sam. Even though he own very little, he had rescued Sam, given her a place to stay, helped her find a way to live after her attempt at soliciting police assistance met a wall of disbelief. 

So Sam stayed with Hector in his little home. Hector taught her Spanish and in return she taught him English. It was a working friendship that Sam suspected also existed because they were both a bit lonely.

Hector was a simple guy. He’d said he had grown up in the orphanage and learned to keep to himself. He worked hard, and didn’t do foolish things like the college guys Sam knew back home did. Even though he was two years Sam’s junior, Hector acted more like the responsible adult. 

He had been the one to arrange for her to work in exchange for food and clothing at the orphanage during her first few months in San Juan. Being around young children had helped Sam cope immensely. She had even begun to accept her situation. It could have ended much worse for her, Sam knew. She tried not to dwell on that horrible night, and what had probably befallen those other women.

Yes, she was very lucky. 

It had been two months ago, in September, when Sam would have been getting ready for another school semester at Oregon State, that the panic encroached again upon her mind. 

She’d been in San Juan for nine months! What was she still doing here? Would she just live here forever? After a tearful evening with a lot of Hector’s reassurances, Sam and Hector had agreed that they would start looking for more stable jobs, and save up for a ticket on a cruise ship (or something) that would take Sam back to the States.

It was such moments that Sam wished Hector was really her brother. If that was what family did, Sam had really missed out in life.

“It’s been two hard months of searching, Hector, and I finally found a job where the pay is good,” Sam said, helping Hector lay out their small dinner. Rice, as always, and a couple tostadas from the kind woman down the street.

“How much?” Hector asked.

“It’s fifteen U.S. dollars and that’s just to start off.”

“ _Verdad_? Where?”

“Some tourist yacht charter and rental company called _Le Yacht_ ,” Sam replied, “down by the north pier.”

Hector looked uncertain, “Isn't that the tourist attraction area? How did you even get there?”

“I walked,” Sam gave Hector an obvious “duh” look.

“That’s not what I meant. That area is known to have a lot of “things” happen. Be careful!”

“What kind of things? It’s safe enough for tourists, right?”

“I don’t know,” Hector admitted, “Just a lot of rumors, maybe. The place that hired you, they start you out at fifteen? That’s a lot just to start.”

“Yeah?” Sam personally wasn’t suspicious enough to pass up the chance at such a great opportunity, and this was Hector. He worried too much anyway. It was hardwired into him.  

“Well...I’m happy you finally found a job, Sam,” Hector smiled, “It was only a matter of time. And you’ll keep me updated on how it goes, sí?”

“Of course, now let’s eat!” Sam dug into her plate. Tomorrow, she was going to be there early and show how professional she could be. 

()()()()()()()

“You were nearly late,” Kim stated. 

“Er yes, but hey, but I’m here now, and I’m ready to work,” Sam tried to make her face the picture of apologetic. Curse her inability to keep track of time. It didn’t help that she no longer had a cell phone. 

“It’s fine,” Kim replied, “You weren’t actually late. I’m just trying to be an intimidating boss.” Sam smiled back, relieved.

Then Kim gathered her clipboard, a set of keys, and gave Sam a quick tour of the building. It was a nice office building, airy and bright. There were no cubicles, but rather cream-colored walls and large windows accented with vibrant green plants. A model of one of their yachts was showcased in the main lobby, spotlighted. Pictures of other types hung on the walls. 

Upstairs held more private rooms for high-end buyers, and an employee break room with a kitchen. _Posh and modern,_ Sam thought by the time she and Kim made it back around to the front desk

“You’ll be sitting here most of the time,” Kim explained. Sam sat on the rolling chair, as indicated. Kim gave her the new login info she had set up for her yesterday, and proceeded to walk Sam through the daily client procedures.

“You give the customer this form to fill out their basic information. Make a copy of their ID, be sure to get their phone number, and credit card numbers. It’ll be your responsibility to enter all that data into the computer later. Just make sure their requests are correct,” Kim instructed. “But that is all. _Do_ not, and I repeat, _do not_ ask for anything extra. Things like why they're renting, who’s all going to be on there, etc. That’s none of our concern. They’ll know they are liable for any damages, in which case, you need to ensure they sign this agreement here, here, and here,” Kim pointed out spots on the main contract. 

“We offer insurance, too, but that’s not your department. I can direct them to my claims guy later. If they have any questions, just refer them to me. I will always make an effort to meet everyone in person. Some of these babies cost more than a penthouse in LA, after all.”

Sam just nodded, “You need to protect your investments.”

“Well, that, and if anything does happen to my ships, I want to know the face of the person I need to kill.”

Sam blanched. Kim grinned sideways, “Just kidding!”

_Why do I get the feeling she’s only saying that to make me feel better?_ Sam thought. She was beginning to see that Kim Le could be a scary woman to cross. 

“And that’s it. It’s pretty simple right?” Kim finished, “Our first customer for today actually called last night to reserve a yacht. He will arrive in fifteen minutes to finish up the forms. Oh, hey, I’ve got a call. Excuse me for a minute, Sam.”

“Sure!” Sam replied. Kim pulled out a Samsung Galaxy to her ear and walked towards her office. 

“ _Good morning,_ ” Kim greeted in Korean. Sam’s ears perked up. She had learned to recognize those words back when she knew Kayla. Her friend had also taught her other words that Sam couldn’t possibly repeat in polite conversation, especially to her boss, but it warmed Sam’s heart to have something remind her of her best friend.

_Who I haven’t seen in almost a year, now…back in the life I used to live before—_ Sam wrenched her mind away from her memories. Truth was she had no idea what had befallen Kayla, and she was very afraid of the answer. The nightmare with the sharks still burned in her mind sometimes, in the dark early hours. Sam just didn’t want to think about it.

She turned to her new desk. _Ok, Sam, you’re a secretary now for an up and coming yacht charter. Where to start?_

Sam decided to organize her desk. The piles of papers she left alone for now. She’d have to separate them by client first anyway. She adjusted the computer monitor, and moved the fancy chrome lamp to the left side, and checked the time of the digital clock. She cocked her head. There should be a pen and post-it notes, to be really official.

Sam started opening drawers. _C’mon, post-it notes. Where are you, you little bright-colored squares?_

Her hands brushed past a bunch if opens, a pack of highlighters, markers, a stapler, _Oh, look, gum!_ Sam noted that for later, then reached deeper into the wide space, fingers searching for paper.

What she pulled out instead was a photo. Two photos, actually. One showed an image of Kim, curled hair piled on top of her head, smile wide. The eccentric man from yesterday had his arm around Kim and another smiling woman. It was obviously a family picture. _Her mother looks a lot like her,_ Sam thought. She wondered if she’d meet her at _Le Yacht,_ too. 

The second picture featured Kim again, but much younger, probably around fourteen, with a pair of boys the same age, also Asian-looking. Kim had her arm stretched forward, probably holding the camera, while the boys stood behind her. One of them had his arms crossed, looking surly, but a hint of a smile peeked from the corner of his mouth. The other, who had longer bangs and kinder eyes, smiled openly. 

Sam smiled, and turned the picture over. On the back, someone had written in a precise script, “B.A.P.’s got your back! –Him-chan.”

Sam wondered what the letters represented for a moment before a hand pulled the photos from her grasp.

“Oh you found my pictures! Thanks. I’ve been looking for these,” Kim said, peering at them herself. She had a nostalgic expression on her face, but frowned when she flipped to her family photo. The air seemed to grow heavy.

“Let’s move on,” Kim spoke brusquely, though Sam caught sight of moisture at the corner of her eyes. She decided not to pry. She was not that rude.

“I apologize for taking so long. It was a V.I.P. client,” Kim’s voice was steady, “All right, so, Sam, I think you can handle it from here, unless you have questions?”

Sam shook her head. 

“Good, because here comes our first customer now, as promised,” Kim gestured toward the door Just as Sam heard the door chime.

()()()()()()

 

_Three months later_

“You need to be a bit firmer when trying to upsell. Make sure you review the amenities for that 90 Sunreef Ultimate tonight,” Kim instructed.

“Ah, I know, I know,” Sam replied, while she typed, “I shouldn’t have rushed it when I couldn’t remember the details. But they still agreed for the 75 Sunreef Sportfish.”

“True,” Kim conceded, “and at least you’ve stopped staring at some of our customers like a guppy.”

“You are never gonna let me live that down, are you? C’mon, give me a break. That was my first day, and my first customer ever! _And_ you only gave me a fifteen minute warning!”

“Didn’t mean you had to lose your ability to talk for five whole minutes,” Kim wheedled teasingly.

“But Kiiimmm, the client was freakin’ Channing Tatum!” Sam protested. Kim just cackled.

The first morning of work had gone pretty smoothly, in Sam’s opinion. Sure, she’d messed up a few things but they weren’t major issues. So what if she stammered like a preteen for a couple minutes after she had regained her power of speech. So what if she couldn’t stop staring at his sculpted biceps while he signed his signature? It had been Channing Tatum! Kim had no right to deny that that fact was a totally valid excuse. 

And Sam had yet to make that mistake since. Three months was plenty of time for Sam to feel comfortable with her job and with her young boss. Kim proved incredibly easy to talk to, once Sam understood her sense of humor. Kim could become the perfect business woman in a blink of an eye, professional, as well as blunt and authoritative. However, she liked small talk, too. It was those times during the day when Sam remembered Kim was indeed just as old as she was.

Kim was a good boss. Sam sort of admired her.

“Nah, it was too perfect to pass up,” Kim declared, “Besides, that picture with your mouth hanging open could have ended up on your employee ID badge. Am I not merciful?” Kim inspected her nails winningly.

_Then again, admiration might be too strong word,_ Sam thought.

“At least your drooling didn’t ruin the paperwork,” Kim continued.

“I was _so_ not drooling!”

“Wanna see the picture again?”

“No!”

Kim laughed.

“I’m so glad I get paid for amusing you, Kim,” Sam remarked dryly. Kim toned down the humor a smidgen.

“Honestly, Sam, your pay is well deserved. Not just for the amusing moments either. Things get done so much faster with you here. It was only just me before and I had to do _everything_. Urg! Not fun.”

“You’re welcome.”

Sam and Kim really did make a good team. Sam thought it a rather simple gig. She greeted customers and handed out forms, talked about the types of yachts, and made sure to be extra cheery. Kim would talk to the clients afterwards and give them a tour.

Sam had never been on tour with them, but whatever rules Kim conveyed during that time certainly stuck. 

There had been one young man a month ago who clearly wanted to rent a yacht to impress his girlfriend. He was obviously the reckless type, but Sam had been perfectly polite. He then left with Kim for the tour, and by the time they returned, he was sweating and looked ready to bolt.

Sam had handed him a piece of chocolate while they finalized the transaction and rental lease papers. Sam could have sworn he had murmured, “Yes ma’am, thank you, ma’am,” as he bowed to Kim before leaving.

Kim had smiled benevolently.

There had not been a single thing wrong with that yacht when the guy returned it. In fact, Sam heard that the guy had paid from his own pocket to have it washed and re-waxed, too.

Yep, Kim knew how to protect those yachts. 

It was past nine in the evening now after one busy day. The two were closing up and Kim walked up to Sam.

“Here!” Kim handed Sam an iPhone 4, “This is actually one of my old phones. I was gonna throw it away but heard you’re saving up to get a phone first, so just use this one.”

“Oh... no, I shouldn’t...” 

“Well I’m just gonna throw it out if you don’t use it.”

“Oh no, no,” Sam’s hand seemed to dart out on its own and wouldn’t let go of the device, “I’ll take it... Thank you so much!”

Kim grinned knowingly, “Sure. International plan and everything.”

Sam knew her face looked blissful; she finally owned a phone again! She glanced at Kim unsurely, “But...does it mean I'd have to... leave tomorrow?”

Kim immediately pinned Sam with her gaze.

“Leave? Why?”

“Um, well, are you giving me this phone so I can call someone to take me home?” _Not that there’d be any family to pay for poor Sam’s return flight,_ Sam added mentally. 

“Do you really have to leave? Here I thought I finally found a f...” Kim paused, “...a really helpful employee...whom...I can just order to do all the work I don't want to do,” she finished, averting her eyes.

Sam smiled cheerfully, relieved, “Okay! I'll stay and work if you want me to. I don't want to leave quite yet. This is a good job I’ve got, after all. And hey, you’re not too bad for a boss,” Kim shot her a look at those words, but Sam just looked at her earnestly, “and…I enjoy being with you. You’re pretty awesome.”

Kim looked pleasantly surprised. 

Sam meant it. Kim teased her, sure, but not with malice. She knew how to run a business very, very well, and was teaching Sam tons. The experience and client exposure was first class, too. Sam knew a good deal lay here for her at _Le Yacht._

Home would still be there in six months or however long Sam was going to stay. _And I can’t just leave Hector hanging,_ Sam rationalized. 

“It had been…a bit hopeless before I started working here you know. I mean, I had Hector--you know, that local guy I told you about that has been fantastically generous to me--but the jobs we found weren’t enough to get me home. I'm really thankful that I ran into you,” Sam's words were filled with appreciation and enthusiasm.

Kim seemed touched.

“Sure,” she cleared her throat, “No problem, Sam. Just work hard and give me two weeks’ notice if you think you’re about to quit,” Kim said honestly, “But...just remember, if you’re around at the end of the year, there will probably be a bonus,” Kim promised.

Sam’s eyes lit up. 

“Really? Omg you're really beyond awesome!” Sam gushed. She was probably overdoing the gratitude, but she didn’t care. Kim was truly a wonderful boss, even if she tried too hard to be professional sometimes. 

As Sam was contemplating the consequences of hugging Kim in giddy thanks, Kim’s phone text message tune sounded. 

Kim grabbed her phone, turning away. Her eyes moved while she read.

Sam suddenly remembered a question she meant to ask a while ago.

“I wish your family’s yacht business was located in the U.S. I wouldn’t worry about quitting then,” Sam mused, “I mean, why isn’t it? You’re also originally from the States, right? How did you locate here?”

“My dad’s work required us to move around a lot,” Kim replied, still staring at the phone screen.

“Oh? Besides the yachts?”

“The yachts are mine, actually,” Kim answered.

“Oh, wow. So what business does your dad do?” Sam couldn’t help her curiosity. Kim was young, and she owned yachts. Her father Derek Le must be, well, loaded, to put it lightly.

Kim was silent for a while then peered at Sam, suddenly annoyed.

“You’re asking too much. It’s none of your concern.”

“Right! Sorry!” Sam back-pedaled in a rush. _Shoot, c’mon Sam, have more tact than that. Your boss gives you a phone, offers to keep you as an employee, and you go and pry into her privacy,_ Sam chided herself. Still…it was kind of suspicious. _No, Sam, shut up,_ her brain said. 

“Anyways, I’m gonna need you to come early tomorrow,” Kim spoke up, phone disappearing back into her red Fendi purse.

“Sure!” Sam agreed, eager to please after her rudeness, “But, how come?”

“I’m not gonna be here tomorrow morning so I need you to open the shop,” Kim tossed the keys over to the other girl.

Sam caught them easily, “Okay, just for the morning?”

Kim gracefully shrugged on her light jacket, and pulled her dyed bronze hair free. Sam had once thought dyed hair on an Asian would look strange, but Kim made it look chic, of course.

“Yeah, I’ll be back before lunch,” Kim confirmed.

As the girls stepped out of the door together, Kim suddenly stopped, “Oh, almost forgot.”

She locked the door, then pulled out her phone and turned to Sam. The backlit screen showed a snapshot of a handsome twenty-something looking man with styled brown and blonde hair. He was holding up a "peace" sign and a cheesy smile stretched ear to ear, showing his upper gums. It looked like the picture was taken during a yacht party, given what little she could see of the background.

“Sam, if this guy shows up tomorrow, do _not_ do anything and wait for me to get back, okay?” Kim verbalized. 

“Oooh... He's attractive," Sam stared, mesmerized, but then she caught the flat glare from Kim, “O..okay!” Sam answered.

“No, really,” Kim reiterated, “ _Remember_ this face! Look at it! _Carefully_!” The phone was shoved towards her nose, an inch from her eyes.

“Okay I’ll remember, Kim,” Sam promised, “But why so adamant?”

“Just wait for me to get back!” Kim declared. After that, the two separated for home, Kim headed towards her car, Sam, towards the main street. Hector usually met her there to ensure she didn’t walk home by herself.

  
()()()()()()

_“You have no new messages.”_

The young man pulled the phone from his ear, a small smile on his face. Of course, Kim wouldn’t reply. 

It was a bright twilight, the moon shining as the last rays of the sun sank below the ocean’s horizon. A Royal Caribbean Radiance Class cruise ship was docked at San Juan Port, one of the western piers, to be precise. Six lean gentlemen wearing tailored business attire--solid black suits with silk white ties--walked down the dock. 

They all seemed to be in their 20's or younger, and moved as if the entire bay belonged to them. The other departing cruise passengers could not help but pay attention to the young men as they passed. The young ladies in particular would fling their hair over their shoulder, or smile coyly. One even sighed contentedly, and fanned herself with her travel brochure. 

The man at the head of the group, a man with styled brown and blonde hair, smirked, but strode on. He could hear one of his companions turn back and shout some flirty phrase, but didn’t bother to stop him. They all loved making an entrance, in one way or another. Plus, he was in a good mood. A week on a cruise ship was a welcome perk to his job, and now that they had finally arrived, it was time to visit an old friend.

_I wonder if she’s still thinks I sleep in late,_ he thought, _Well, I guess we’ll just have to surprise her._

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: We do not own any recognizable characters or organizations in this story. We are not making any monetary profit either, so don’t be jealous of us. Be jealous of TS Entertainment. The members names of B.A.P. are only borrowed here to inspire our (and hopefully, your) imaginations. Any resemblance to the actual B.A.P. is coincidental, except in regards to Kang Ji Won’s, Kim Ki Bum’s, and the MV’s director’s conceptual ideas for the One Shot. We basically took our character’s physical appearances and plot ideas from that video.


	4. Well Met

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to meet the bad guys. Oh, and B.A.P., of course!

()()()()()()()()()

  
**Get out here. Now.**

A surly expression flickered across the man’s mouth. Closing his phone, he reached up and smoothed his beard, then turned to his left.

“Got to go, little minx,” the scantily clad redhead pouted, but obliged, sliding out of the booth to let him pass. He stretched his neck side to side, threw the redhead and her brunette friend a wink, and headed towards the door.

Around him, the night club’s smoke saturated the air, lingering about people’s faces as they talked of inconsequential matters. Shot glasses clinked.

No one paid any attention to him, beyond the cursory upraising glance. He glared hard at anyone who judged him less than he deserved, and he knew the scars on his arms and tattoos on his shoulders warded off everyone else.

Had they known that his exterior belied something much more sinister underneath, they would have run shrieking incoherently. No, the sheep looked down meekly and kept drinking their lives away, relieved that they were allowed to live.

Rafael strode with a predator’s step, passing the doorway bouncer, the heavy exit door, and onward into the night air.

As predicted, a black sedan waited for him on the curb, windows black. Rafael got in.

“Mr. Rodriguez,” Rafael greeted.

His boss set his wine glass down, and turned to him. Rodriguez was nearing fifty, but though his face showed deep age lines, his body was far from frail. The man’s hazel eyes fixed on Rafael, flinty and clear.

“Well?” his voice was gruff, as usual. It was a voice that tolerated no backtalk, held no patience for idiocy, and projected a honed edge of constant suspicion. Rafael appreciated it. The less time spent on pleasantry, the more time for doing his job: search and destroy. It was Rafael’s favorite game.

“Daphne, a redhead who works as a stripper here, has a sister who lives in Miami, Florida. She currently works for the Royal Caribbean and recently left port a few days ago,” Rafael replied.

“I know you care nothing for these women, so get to the point,” Rodriguez prompted, though without his usual bark. Rafael had been his right-hand man for nearly eleven years. He always got the job done.

“I sent the sister a letter before she left, with a lock of Daphne’s hair,” Rafael chuckled darkly, “I implied that if she did not fulfill my request, that there would be something more permanent sent next time.”

“Ah, and I suppose the Daphne girl has no idea?” his boss prompted.

“Of course not. Using that minx is quite enjoyable at the moment. She blabs about a great number of things. However, if she does find out about what I told her sister, I’ll relish the chance to show her exactly who I am. The fear is absolutely…

“Yes, Rafael. I know you take pleasure in your job. You’ve said so for years.”

“Which is why you keep me employed,” Rafael grinned. The scar on his cheek wrinkled.

“Indeed. Now, the information?”

Rafael pulled a folded paper from his pocket. Rodriguez shook it open with one hand while he pulled out a cigarette. Rafael reached over to light it for him. Smoke soon filled the car.

“This is the passenger manifest for a cruise line,” Rodriguez spoke, scanning the list.

Rafael nodded, “For the Royal Caribbean International MS Jewel of the Seas. Daphne’s sister succeeded, fortunately for Daphne,” Rafael affirmed, though he was a bit disappointed, “I do not know yet at which port they plan to disembark, but it will not take too long to figure out.”

“See that you do,” Rodriguez put the list away, and took another drag, “After they ran into hiding more than a year ago, even my sources could not find them.”

“Neither could my methods,” Rafael added.

“Which means they took next to no one with them when they left. Hah! Derek must be scraping the barrel to keep track of his operations.”

“He probably has T.S. running them for him,” Rafael pointed out, watching as Rodriguez’s lip turned up in a sneer at the name.

“T.S. stole what is mine. I should have seen that from the beginning. It hadn’t been Derek, and I wasted my time with him,” came the growl, “allowing him and T.S. the chance to retaliate, almost ruining me! My long-planned surprise attack on T.S.’s daughter last November still bore no results! Derek is helping him hide those bonds, I know. They’ve always trusted each other.”

“But they didn’t trust you.”

There was a beat of silence.

“I allow you to have free reign in much that you do, Rafael. Tread carefully, though, in what you say to me,” Rodriguez bit out. Rafael did not look away, and a moment later, nodded.

“I’ll make both Derek and T.S. pay, even more so than they have already,” his boss added.

Rafael smiled maliciously, images of fire, a crying girl, and red sea water danced enticingly across his mind, “That will be fun.”

“But only after you obtain my rightful belongings,” Rodriguez reminded him, “Before that, we have to find out where they’ve been holed up all this time. Following T.S.’s pet crew should lead us right there.”

“That’s my assignment, then?”

“Naturally. Use whatever resources you require. You know my routes,” Rodriguez unlocked the door. Their discussion was over for now.

Rafael nodded, and stepped out of the vehicle.

“You know, I may not need to go there in person. I know a honcho who runs a lucrative prostitution ring on every island east of the Dominican Republic. He owes me several favors, and he buys many of your shipments. I’ll get him to do some searching.”

“Just get the job done. Find them,” Rodriguez replied, and eyed his right-hand man, “What is it that keeps you here anyway?”

“Oh, I just don’t think I’ve gotten to know Miss Daphne as well as I like yet,” Rafael voiced. He knew his smile took on a manic edge. He was getting excited just thinking about it.

“I may have to tell her that her sister failed after all.”

With that, Rafael closed the door, and slid his calloused hands into his pockets, fingering the sharp steel knife that rested there.

()()()()()()

_Le Yacht, Nine a.m._

  
The next morning, Samantha came in early to open up shop. It wasn’t the first time she had done so, and the other employees were used to her presence by now.

Business progressed smoothly. Sam had made two sales, handed out reserved rental keys to an old man and his young wife, and had just returned from making herself a cup of hazelnut iced coffee, when the door chimed yet again.

Sam looked up in reflex, smile in place. Her eyes widened.

A tall young man with light brown hair walked in, his long legs carrying him to Sam’s desk in two strides. The sunglasses that hid his eyes glimmered once in a ray of sun. They looked expensive, as did his clothes. Mystery seemed to cloak him as a crown did a king, so much so that Sam did not initially notice the other two men who had entered after him.

They were also young and lean. One had black hair swept to one side. The angles of his face, while clearly Asian, combined with his eye shape in a way Sam had not seen on any Asian before. It was a distinctive blend, and eye-catching. The other guy had an innocent smile curling at the corner of his lips, thick brown hair brushed forward, and eyes that caught Sam’s heart in a stutter.

They looked like they had stepped out of an _Island Causal_ magazine and happened to land in Puerto Rico. Linen shirts and pressed slacks, luxury watches and accessories; yep, definitely high-rollers.

She quickly focused back on the first man, “Hello, welcome to _Le Yacht_. Thank you for choosing our yacht chartering service.”

The young man—Sam decided to call him Long Legs—glided nearer, biting on a toothpick in his mouth.

“What's up? Is there a Kim Le here?” He asked bluntly.

“Yes, but Ms. Le is out for errands. Can I help y--?”

“You new?” He interjected rudely.

“Um...yea?" Sam frowned, annoyed and gave him a puzzled looked.  

Long Legs chuckled, “So can I rent a yacht?”

“Okay!” Sam stamped down the nervous vibe she felt, and pulled upon her most professional voice, “Please fill out this form here with your name, credit card information, and phone number. Sign at the bottom when you’re finished and I’ll need your ID.”

With a practiced flourish, she presented the papers, complete with clipboard and pen. Long Legs glanced down dismissively at the items and promptly ignored them. He leaned over the desk, invading her personal bubble.

“Oh, I’m a returned customer,” he pointed to the computer, “Look up my name. Yong-guk Bang. You should have everything you need saved already. I’ll take the one we had last time.”

“The 210 Sunreef Power Trimaran,” Unique Face added helpfully. Angel Eyes, meanwhile, had wandered back outside. He stared over the side of the pier, then trailed his hand along the rope, then tapped his foot restlessly, as if to a song.

“All right. Give me a moment, please,” Sam was busy typing up the search for past transactions when she heard rapping on the glass door.

" _Hyung_! What’s taking so long?” Angel Eyes had walked back to the entrance. His face peered into the lobby area innocently, “Oh! Wait a minute, this door is glass now? Is this some new addition Noona added to the store?” He wondered aloud. His fingers roamed along the edges, exploring as if he were a carpenter or something.

Sam hurried over and spoke at him through the glass, “Sir, if you’re not renting a yacht I need you to back away please. You're blocking the entry way.”

Angel Eyes did not seem to hear her, and instead turned towards the upper eave. The purple heart ribbon that Kayla had given Sam as a parting gift hung there, shining in the sun. Sam had kept it in her pocket while she slept, and it had miraculously made it through her entire kidnapping. It had been crushed and wet, but after drying it in the sun, Sam had painstakingly reformed it.

The heart was the only thing she had left of her life back in Oregon. Seeing it hanging on the door every morning reminded Sam of her goal, and filled her with determination.

“Oh this is pretty. Did you make it?” Angel Eyes inquired, reaching towards it with one hand.

Sam quickly pulled the heart down and cradled it in her hands, “No, I didn’t.”

“If you didn’t want it to be stolen, you shouldn’t hang it near the window,” Angel Eyes teased. His smile seemed to make the air brighter somehow. Sam shook herself mentally. _Be professional! No more Channing Tatum incidents!_

Resolutely, Sam strode back into the office, and deposited the heart ribbon gently inside a desk drawer. She refocused on Yong-guk. He and Unique Face had been waiting patiently, as if Angel Eye’s disruptions were commonplace. The computer’s search dinged, signaling its end.

“Oh yes, I found you,” She said as she looked up his name, “Mister…Bang?” Sam giggled slightly.

“What’s so funny?” Yong-guk asked.

“Is your last name really Bang?”

Yong-guk slid off his sunglasses, then, revealing narrowed brown eyes.

And that’s when Sam recognized he was the same man as the one on Kim’s cell phone last night.

“Hey! You're that one guy...Oooooh. I’m not supposed to do anything until Kim gets back,” Sam quickly used the mouse to minimize the screen. She even turned off the monitor for good measure. _Oops. I should probably call Kim, now._

“Is there a problem, Miss?” Unique Face asked kindly. Sam bit her lip. It would be rude to say outright that Kim had made her promise not to do business with Yong-guk unless she was present.

“Uh, well…I’m so new here, you know, and, um…” she trailed off unconvincingly.

“Hyung! Are you done yet? Hurry up!” Angel Eyes repeated. He was munching on an apple now. Wherever he found it, Sam had no idea.

“DAE-HYUN! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY WINDOW!” a loud feminine voice yelled.

The young man startled and, without turning toward the voice, hurried into the shop.

“The queen has returned to her castle!” he announced dramatically at Yong-guk. Yong-guk just smirked, sliding his folded sunglasses into his shirt pocket casually. The three men turned to face the door, just as Kim stormed in.

“Hold up! Freeze! Don’t do anything! Don’t let him sign anything!” Kim said forcefully. She locked eyes with Sam, “I told you to wait until I came back to deal with him!”

“I haven’t done anything yet,” Sam assured, holding up the blank forms immediately.

Kim blew out a breath, then strode forwards and slammed her hand on the desk, turning to Yong-guk. Sam felt like she could breathe again, with Kim’s gaze directed elsewhere. She peered at Yong-guk. He seemed completely unfazed.

“What the fuck are you doing here so early?” Kim asked. Her other hand rested on her hip. She was the picture of “pissed off.”

“I’m fine, thank you. How are you?” Yong-guk joked, smirk widening.

“Cut the crap. Answer the question,” Kim demanded.

“Isn’t it obvious? I need to rent a yacht.”

“No.”

“C’mon, Kim.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I have _business_ to do,” he emphasized on the word, and suddenly the mood changed. The mysterious aura was back, and Sam glanced around uncertainly at the three guys and Kim standing there together. It was obvious now they definitely had quite the history.

“Does my dad know?” Kim finally replied softly.

“Of course. Why else would I be here if he didn’t?” Yong-guk answered.

Kim turned towards Sam, her curled hair whipping about.

“Sam, can you go get those gas receipts from Señor Morillo, please?”

“Oh, now?” Sam hesitated. Kim just inclined her head yes. Clearly this was one of those VIP-ranked conversations, “Y-yeah of course!”

Sam has just talked to him yesterday, but whatever. She picked up her purse, her phone, and exited.

  
()()()()()()

Sam was soon returning from her very short and awkward conversation with Mr. Morillo. There had been nothing to discuss, really, and Sam had not wanted to share client gossip with anyone. Definite no-no in this business, so she had simply thanked Mr. Morillo for his diligent work with the yachts, chatted about the weather, then left.

_Mr. Morillo probably thinks I’m so weird_ , Sam thought.

Her feet alighted on the wooden dock south of the main pier—she had taken the scenic route back in order to give Kim more time to finish her talk—when Sam noticed up ahead was that annoying Dae-Hyun guy. Two others, around the same age, stood talking with him. Sam really didn’t want to deal with the restless man at the moment, and turned back. She figured she’d head down to one of the connecting docks and make her way back to _Le Yacht_ that way.

Maybe she’ll waste time collecting clams on the way. Hector would tell her she behaved like a ten-year-old, but hey, their home needed some decoration.

Sam had gotten about twenty feet away from Dae-hyun and company, when two hulky men stepped into her path.

“ _Perdóneme_ ,” Sam mumbled, stepping to move around them. They blocked her.

“¿ _A dónde va, chica_?” one of the men leered in a flirty tone, “ _Ven a jugar con nosotros_ , Beautiful Girl. _Usted es muy guapa.”_

Sam winced.

“ _No, gracias,”_ she replied and reluctantly turned around to take the other dock. She hated getting attention from men like this, and the best way to end it, was to walk away. Quickly. Even if that meant going past Dae-hyun.

She got two steps before the same man who had spoken circled in front of her.

“I ask so nice,” the man said, in accented English.

“I want you to move, please,” Sam was certain to enunciate so they couldn’t misunderstand her.

A thick hand suddenly landed on her shoulder. She turned to see the other man grinning at her. His two front teeth were missing; the rest were yellowed.

Sam contemplated hitting him with her purse.

“The lady told you to move. You’re blocking her way,” Dae-hyun’s voice uttered as he walked toward Sam’s spot on the shore. His tone had a hard edge to it, clashing with the angelic expression still on his face.

One of his companions with light auburn hair flipped up and over to one side stepped up face to face with creepy man number one. He was taller than Dae-hyun by a few centimeters, and broader about the shoulders.

“ _Y si no obedecemos_?” the other man challenged.

Sam glanced at the clenching fists on both sides for a split second, then spun out of the man’s grasp and ran down the way she had begun before being stopped by the thugs.

She didn’t care to look back. A fight looked ready to erupt, and why should she care for the outcome? She reached the other dock entrance and slowed down. No one had followed her, thankfully.

She could barely see the group of men on the shoreline south of her, not fighting yet, but probably about to do so. Sam inhaled and exhaled slowly, pushing the adrenaline back. The dock would take her thirty minutes to traverse, and hopefully by the time she reached the pier, they’d be gone.

  
()()()()()()()()()()

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked them. --C. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: We do not own any recognizable characters or organizations in this story. We are not making any monetary profit either. The members names of B.A.P. are only borrowed here to inspire our imaginations. Any resemblance to the actual B.A.P. is coincidental, except in regards to Kang Ji Won’s, Kim Ki Bum’s, and the MV’s director’s conceptual ideas for the One Shot.


	5. Old and New Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These friends of Kim's are quite lively aren't they? Is that all there is to them?

 

_Le Yacht Office Building_

 

The door chimed right as Kim was handing Yong-guk the packets to sign. She clenched the keys in her fist, immensely displeased.

Sam came through the door, looking relieved, but hesitated once she caught sight of Yong-guk signing away and Him-chan lounging on the sofa. Kim waved her in. They would be finished soon, and she had a feeling she needed to rant a bit.

“You better return my yacht back in _one piece_ ,” Kim said for what felt like the hundredth time.

“OK!” Yong-guk replied carelessly, as if Kim's words held no more significance than saying the grass was green. Kim pursed her lips. Him-chan chuckled. She turned her glare on him.

“You, too, Him-chan. You know I mean it. One. Piece.” She did not stomp her heel while she said it, but only because she did not want to seem juvenile in front of these two especially.

Him-chan, at least, nodded obligingly. Yong-guk thrust the papers in front of her.

“All done,” he smirked, tossing the pen onto the desk.

Kim shot him a look, then walked to the copier and shoved in the packets. She hit the green start button, as Sam approached her.

“Uh, Kim, are you all right?” Sam asked tentatively, eyeing Yong-guk suspiciously. Ah, Samantha. Kim now knew it wasn’t her fault that the guys had arrived early. She shouldn’t have been so abrupt with her.

“I’m good, thanks for asking. Sorry for sending you off so suddenly,” Kim apologized.

“It’s okay. Mr. Morillo thinks I’m nuts now, but that’s probably true,” Sam replied. Kim laughed.

“I’ll make it up to you, k? But right now, I need you to come with me and help me tape these copies all over Yong-guk’s damn yacht,” Kim split the large stack in half and handed one pile to Sam.

“Uh...okay?”

“Is this really necessary Kim?” spoke Him-chan, standing up and putting his hands in his pockets. Blast him and his ability to look good. Blast them all.

Not that physical attractiveness had anything to do with why she was agreeing to lease them a yacht. She was going to have a _talk_ with her father about warning her less than 12 hours before he and T.S. sent this lot into her office.

“You know it is, Him-chan. Don’t deny the past. Plus, if something happens to him,” Kim pointed at Yong-guk, “Say, I don’t know, if he _dies,_ then _you_ will be the one that I hold liable for my yacht and any or all damages therein. Now, let’s go Sam!”

 

()()()()()()

 

Kim and Sam had covered nearly the entire interior of the Trimaran when Young-jae opened the main cabin door.

“Whoa, what the fuck is all this?” he exclaimed. Young-jae looked the same to Kim, if older. His earrings still glinted in each lobe, and his hair was shorn close on the sides, left longer on top.

“Agreements,” Kim answered back concisely.

Young-jae gaped, but wisely chose not to protest when he saw Kim’s expression. Kim smiled, satisfied. Young-jae and the other four, at least, always had a healthy fear for Kim’s angry moods. Yong-guk, unfortunately, loved to aggravate her. And Him-chan was simply amused.

“You see these?” Kim pointed to the copies, “They better still be here when you all return with my yacht. No tears, no stains, no contraband, nothing! You got me?”

Kim bustled past him and out the door, intent on continuing her mission by taping the remaining papers on the windows and railings. Sam followed dutifully, sending a small “hello” to Young-jae.

Outside, Kim spotted Dae-hyun, Jong-up, and Yong-guk all walking toward the yacht. Each man had a girl on both arms.

“Oh, no no no no no! Yong-guk! We did not agree to this, now did we?” she objected, hands on hips, even though she knew it’d do her no good.

The group boarded the yacht—her yacht, dammit—not minding Kim at all. Him-chan followed last, giving her a sheepish grin. At least he knew enough not to bring girls. Then again, he was probably trying to stay on her good side. He was good at that.

Yong-guk made a show of plucking one of the contracts out of Sam’s hands. He scanned it (not reading it at all, of course), pointed to it with one long finger and said, “Bringing girls is not listed on here.”

Kim was speechless.

Oh, this was not happening! Yong-guk outsmarted her! She was going to draw up a contract just for him the rest of them as soon as she returned to the office, and so help her, it was going to be rock solid.

She stormed past the group, not caring who she bumped into. Him-chan graciously stepped out of her path of rage. He opened his mouth, about to give her some useless reassurances, but she shot him a glare.

He smiled disarmingly instead, “What about your assistant?”

Kim jolted, “Oh, right. Sam, let’s go.”

“Coming!” Sam replied. She shoved her remaining copies into a random girl’s arms and headed towards the prow. Dae-hyun stood in her way, at the entrance.

“Omg, not again,” Sam said, “Can you please move? You’re blocking the passageway. Again.”

“Is that how you talk to your rescuer? Besides, there’s really not that much room now with so many people on the deck. Here. Just squeeze by. You’ll fit,” Dae-hyun said. Kim rolled her eyes. That boy was always flirting; it was like a code in his brain. Worse, he was exceptionally good at it.

Kim could see Sam hesitating, irked. In the end, she sighed, and moved on by, brushing against Dae-hyun as she passed. He just smiled angelically.

“Ignore him,” Kim advised.

“Done,” Sam agreed.

The two walked back to the office.

 

()()()()()()

 

Sam walked into  _Le Yacht’s_ lobby to find Kim stomping aggressively back and forth. Her hair swirled about her. Sam remained silent as a survival technique.

“What do those girls see in him?” Kim asked Sam, “He’s not even that attractive!”

Sam walked over to Kim and patted her shoulder, “I know. It’s okay, Kim….He is kind of cute, though,” Kim glared.

“That was a rhetorical question,” she grumbled.

“Oh, well…if the personality doesn’t match the exterior, sooner or later, those girls will figure it out,” Sam conceded, “Maybe.”

“Ah, I shouldn’t care about the girls. As long as they bring back my yacht with no permanent damage, everything will be fine,” Kim sighed. She smoothed back her hair, calming herself.

“One day, you’ll have to tell me about these other yachts that met such terrible ends,” Sam said, “but right now, here. I don’t know if this will make you feel better but I made you this,” Sam pulled out a handmade friendship bracelet from her pocket.

The children at the orphanage had given her one, along with some extra twine, and using spare beads from Ms. Gabriella’s tourist trinket stand, Sam was able to braid a colorful strand last week while Kim was out.

“Happy birthday!” Sam exclaimed, “I know it’s not Fendi or anything but I didn’t know what to get you so…you get this.”

“No, no, it’s really pretty! I like it. Thanks!” Kim replied. Her tone switched immediately from angry to extremely happy, “At least someone remembered.”

Sam helped her knot it around her wrist. It was a lucky thing that she even recalled how to make the gift. The last time she made one, she had been twelve.

Kim held it up to the light, appraising it. She turned to look at Sam, hesitation in her eyes.

“Really, I…thanks, Sam,” Kim said quietly, and then all at once, two arms gripped her in a tight hug. It ended just as abruptly. Kim backed up, seemingly unused to the action.

Suddenly Kim’s father, Derek, burst through the inner office doorway, enthusiasm radiating off of him. His many rings flashed as he spread his arms, stretching yet another Hawaiian shirt across the shoulders.

“Kim! There you are!”

“Dad? You’ve been in here the whole time?” Kim queried, “Hey, you have got to warn me earlier about Yong--”

“Later, Kimmie. Come outside with me!” Derek directed with an outstretched arm.

Kim immediately narrowed her eyes, “Why?”

Without replying back, Derek threw her a brand new key. Kim snatched it out of the air, peering at the insignia. She smiled.

“Another car, hmm?” Kim assumed.  _What does she mean ‘another’ one?_ Sam thought.

She followed father and daughter outside to the parking area beyond the dock. There was a big crowd gathered on the paved area, sounds of awe echoing among them.

Sam pushed her way through the crowd, curious, and soon found her jaw unable to resist gravity.

Sam was standing in front of a brand new Lamborghini Aventador J.

The gleam of the hood looked like a dolphin’s hide, all smooth lines and kinetic potential. Fresh, unmarred, wealth immortalized. Sam knelt down on one knee, awe-struck. The tires’ hubcaps reflected her slack face. It was her first time seeing a vehicle so magnificent.

Meanwhile, Kim just walked over, accepting her gift with a cheery grin, patting the door like a new happy parent. Derek smiled, as well, smug.

Sam opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by an ecstatic voice.

“Damn, Noona! That’s a sweet ride you have there!” A tall young boy with dyed ochre hair ran up to them. Sam didn’t know why, but she got the strangest feeling that his style reminded her of Yong-guk and his gang.

“Hey! Get away Zelo! You don’t get to touch it!” Kim snapped.  _Yep. Kim’s using that tone again; this Zelo kid is definitely with Yong-guk._

“But it’s the Aventador! Take me out for a ride?” Zelo asked, hands together in supplication. His expression did not measure up to Dae-hyun’s angelic one, but his youth made up for the difference. Kim, however, held firm.

“No! What are you doing out here anyway? Where were you before?” She inquired.

“Oh...um,” Zelo tapped his chin in thought, then snapped his fingers, “I’m here to wish you a ‘happy birthday,’ of course! Happy Birthday, Noona! The bestest Noona of all!”

“You would’ve been better off without that second part, Zelo,” Kim replied flatly.

Zelo dropped the act, straightening, “Ah, I overdid it, huh?” Sam and Derek both nodded with Kim, agreeing.

“Yes. Leave the outrageous compliments to Dae-hyun. But thanks for the birthday wish either way,” Kim said genuinely, “It’s good to see you, kid.”

“I’m eighteen now, you know. I’m not a kid,” Zelo spoke with the air of someone who said that line often, “In truth, I was finishing up some research earlier this morning, and when I joined them on the yacht, the Hyungs said they would be doing something with the girls soon and told me to leave.”

Kim gripped her new keys.

“ _What_? They’re planning to do…that? On  _my_ yacht?” Kim took a deep breath, clearly trying (too late, Sam could tell by turn of her lip) to avoid the disturbing thoughts that just popped up in her head.

Zelo was circling the Lamborghini casually, inspecting it from different angles. Sam followed his lead, and touched her index finger to a headlight. She swore it felt like diamonds.

“Noona, c’mon, I bet nearly all of your clients do the “dance with no pants” on your yachts. Yachts are recreational objects after all,” Zelo remarked.

Kim’s disgusted expression froze.

“Ew,” she stated, “I don’t know what’s more perturbing: that what you said is true, or that you’re old enough to talk like that now.”

“Aw, thanks, Noona! I’ll let Yong-guk and Him-chan know you approve of me.”

“OK, fine, I will, but you have to watch the shop for me while Sam and I go on a joy ride.” Kim grabbed Sam’s arm and hauled her over to the passenger side door. It clicked open, and Sam settled into the seat, dazed. The beloved new-car smell wafted into Sam’s nostrils. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a part of her was hyperventilating with glee. Outwardly, she exhaled forcefully, her smile wistful.

“You know, since this car doesn’t have a roof, perhaps you should close your mouth before it catches flies,” Kim remarked amusedly.

Sam snapped out of her awe and stuttered, “Huh? No. I-I mean, yes. Right.”

“So I take it that you like the car huh?” Derek finally spoke up.

“Yes, yes, Appa. You did very well,” she gave her father a quick peck on the cheek, and met his eyes, conveying thanks without words.

“Now, watch the shop with Zelo!” Kim demanded of him, turning to leap right over the driver door. She landed gracefully in the seat and buckled the seat belt.

“Well...you’re welcome!” Derek laughed.

Kim turned over the ignition and the Aventador purred to life. Sam could feel the 700 horsepower rumbling beneath her seat.  _Not like a cat,_  she thought,  _More like a dragon._

Kim expertly shifted gears and pulled out from the parking area, scattering the crowd, who had cheered when the V12 engine roared. She yelled over her shoulder, “Zelo, tell Yong-guk to take back the Ferrari. I don’t need it anymore!”

“Wait, you have a Ferrari, too?” Sam asked, stunned.

“Oh that’s right! You don't have a car...then you can have that one!” Kim said merrily, then returned to yelling, “Zelo, never mind! Don’t touch my Ferrari! I mean it!”

They lurched forwards, zipping across the road in no time.

()()()()()()

 

Kim whooped in excitement as she and Sam raced east on Highway 22 in her new Aventador.

She accelerated as they came out of the curve. A look sideways told her Sam had a death grip on her seat.

“WHOOOO! Yea! This is  _awesome_!!” Kim let out, thrilled, “Sam, just relax!”

“Um... Kim. You should slow down. Speeding tickets…” Sam warned.

“Man! This is one of those times when I can fully forgive my father his faults, know what I mean?” Kim asked. She exhaled, releasing all the stress that had accumulated since she received that text last night.

“I needed this. I really need to get my mind off those trouble-makers. I swear my headache set up a permanent camp in my brain the moment they arrived.”

“So...are they your friends? You guys seemed really close, with all that teasing, but the way they stress you out, I can’t really figure it out,” Sam wondered aloud, confused. It was a bit difficult to hear her words due to the wind, so Kim slowed down a bit.

The gusts lessened and Sam’s grip eased. Both women took a moment to admire the white-sand beaches to their right before refocusing on the topic.

“Well...sorta,” Kim began, “I mean that guy Yong-guk...he’s a pain fifty percent of the time, but him and Him-chan, and all the other boys…let’s just say we have a lot of history. And Yong-guk and Him-chan took care of me, too…when my mother passed away,” Kim explained glancing over at Sam. She was taking a risk. Sam hadn’t been around when everything happened, so she didn’t know the full implications. Kim hoped to keep it that way. _Andy knew everything, and look what happened to her. No, I won’t tell Sam all the details unless I really have to._

“Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to be so insensitive,” Sam apologized. She paused, “Oh man, that means that woman I saw in your family photo…” Sam blanched.

Kim smiled reassuringly, “No worries. It’s fine. I’m still glad you found that picture.”

They were both quiet for a moment. Kim knew Sam was feeling awkwardly guilty.

“Really, it’s okay. It’s been awhile, and like I said, Yong-guk and Him-chan were there for me. I met them even before my mother died. My father…he was never around much. Busy managing things all over the world so…yeah. The two of them and I grew up together. They’re family…in a way,” Kim elaborated.

“How old were you when your mom passed away?” Sam asked, her voice gentle.

“Fourteen.”

“So young!” Sam gasped, cringing, “I keep sticking my foot in my mouth. Sorry.”

“Yes. But’s it’s okay,” Kim reassured, “Really. I’ll be fine.” _Once I get revenge,_ her mind added.

“Okay...so how did the guys first come into the picture?” Sam kindly changed the subject.

“Yong-guk was working as detail for my father, so he just kept an eye on me, too.”

“Detail? As in bodyguard? Wow, he still looks so young.”

“He is. He was only fifteen when he started. That’s when I first met him,” Kim remarked, memories of Yong-guk at that age—tall and gangly, but skilled—flashing in her mind. He had tried so hard back then to be intimidating. Nowadays, he didn’t even need to try.

Sam seemed lost for words, in her disbelief, “Fi...fifteen...? And he worked bodyguard detail?”

Kim grinned, “Haha, yeah. He’s employed by my father’s partner, who groomed him specifically for that type of work.”

“You mean…dangerous work?”

Kim nodded, but didn’t go into specifics, not wanting to scare Sam, “What makes you say ‘dangerous’?” she deflected instead.

“He gives off that vibe,” Sam admitted, playing with the cup holder nervously, “Kim, I don’t mean to pry. It’s not just Yong-guk, you know?” Kim looked at her questioningly, “Okay, you remember when you sent me out on that pointless task to Mr. Morillo? Well, a couple thugs started coming onto me, and Dae-hyun, Young-jae, and, um…that kid with the broad shoulders?”

“Jong-up,” Kim answered.

“Yes, Jong-up. They all came over to help me out. I mean, I’m grateful and all, but the look in their eyes sorta…scared me. Most guys just look like they’re cocky and itching for a good fight, but them? They looked like they’d win the fight. In a very…permanent way,” Sam concluded, looking unsure of Kim’s reaction.

Kim kept her eyes on the road. What was she supposed to say? No way she’d admit that they were T.S.’s mafia hit-squad who had been wildly successful for years perfecting permanent ways—as Sam put it—to end a fight. Or that Kim had also helped them succeed on a few occasions. Or that her father, being a mafia lord himself, approved of her association with them.

She took a breath.

“Yea...well…you know by now that my father owns many businesses across the world. I know he doesn’t look like it, yes, but he does.”

“Apparently so, since he bought you a car that sold for nearly three million dollars when it was first revealed,” Sam pointed out sardonically.

“Right. So, that much success and money breeds enemies. He’s been threatened before through the years. He required protection during those times until things were sorted out,” Kim skirted the truth, but tried not to lie, in case Sam had to be told later on.

Sam leaned back into the passenger seat, quiet. When she spoke, the question surprised Kim.

“So now they’re here because your father—or you—needs protection again,” Sam deduced, a worried look on her face. Her hand clenched at the seat once more.

_Not exactly,_ Kim thought, but she wasn’t about to contradict her. Sam was half right. They were here not only to protect the Le’s, but also what Derek Le currently had in his possession.

“Don't worry, Sam, okay? You're safe with me,” she forced a smile on her face, “It’s just a precaution. The threat isn’t that serious.”

_Okay, so that was a lie, but Sam would freak out._

“As long as you just continue doing exactly what I told you before, you'll be fine,” Kim reassured her.

_I promise_ , Kim vowed. Sam was her friend now. She wouldn’t end up like Andrea. She _wouldn’t_.

 Sam just gave her a faint smile, and Kim drove on.

  
()()()()()()

 

That night, Sam was preparing dinner. _Mofongo_ was featured in nearly every Puerto Rican restaurant, and Hector had splurged to introduce her to that particular cuisine early into their friendship. Sam liked it so much, she had peppered the orphanage cook with questions until she’d finally gotten the entire recipe.

Today was _mofongo_ with shrimp day.

Hector came out of the bathroom, took one look at Sam, and asked, “What did those plantains ever do to you?”

Sam stopped mashing, realizing that she had been gripping the masher in a white-knuckled fist. She sighed.

“So how was work today?” Hector hazarded, sitting down at the table as well. It wobbled, but held up. Hector and Sam had found it on the side of the road so they couldn’t complain.

“Well, Kim got a brand new convertible Lamborghini from her dad for her birthday and we took the rest of the afternoon off test driving it,” Sam deadpanned.

“ _Qué_?! Lamborghini?” Hector exclaimed, “And she just took you on a scenic ride?”

“Yep.”

“Huh,” Hector blinked, “So, why do you look…not thrilled? The Sam I know would be bouncing all over the place.”

Sam sighed again. She couldn’t tell Hector about Kim’s past. It was personal, and Sam wouldn’t appreciate it either if the situation was reversed. Kim had heard a lot about Hector from Sam, but she had yet to meet him. Would she trust him as much as Sam trusted him?

“We…also had some interesting customers this morning,” Sam began carefully, while she turned away to continue cooking. Hector went around setting the table.

“And? Were they celebrities or something?” Hector prompted.

“Uh, no. They were returned customers. Kim and Derek knew them really well. In fact, Kim and one guy, Yong-guk, quarreled with each other like brother and sister,” Sam smiled then, “It was actually pretty funny.”

“Yong-guk?” Hector struggled to repeat the name.

“Oh, yea, it’s Korean,” Sam explained, repeating the name slowly. Hector frowned.

“Anyway, there’s, like, six of them. All kind of annoying in their own way, but then again, I guess they are handsome young men used to a rich lifestyle,” Sam said.

“I’m a handsome young man, and I’m not annoying,” Hector pointed out, stretching his arms behind his head. Sam chuckled, tempted to reach out and flick his ear.

“Yea, don’t get ahead of yourself, _mi hermano menor_.”

“I’m twenty. Not ten. But hey, good use of the word _‘menor’_ there,” Hector declared.

“ _Gracias,”_ Sam said, “You still need the rich part though, right?”

“Yes, that will come in time. Patience is a virtue,” he stated calmly. Sam smiled. Hector seemed more mature than most of the guys she met today, and she felt ridiculously proud of that.

The _mofongo_ was finished now, and she plated the portions and brought them to the table. Hector led the prayer, then Sam picked up her fork.

“Sam,” Hector said. He was using his serious voice. Sam looked up.

“Don’t be fooled by those guys, ok?” Hector warned, his brown eyes locked with her own.

Sam frowned and looked away.

“I-I know, Hector. They…dangerous,” Sam concurred. A thought occurred to her, “Wait, how do _you_ know that?”

“I think I saw them this afternoon,” Hector said. Sam felt her eyebrows rise.

“What? Where at?”

“At the restaurant I work at,” Hector explained, “There were just three of them though, not six, all Korean, wearing really nice clothes and had hundred dollar haircuts, _verdad_?”

“Yea, sounds like them,” Sam nodded. Who else could it be around San Juan? “Did they do something?”

“No,” Hector denied, “But I _know_ their type. They are no good. Just stay out of their way, Sam.”

His tone brokered no argument, but Sam had to ask, “How do you figure this, Hector?”

Hector didn’t say anything at first, pushing his food around his plate. He seemed to consider something, then opened his mouth to speak.

“There was just this look in their eyes,” Hector said finally, unknowingly echoing Sam’s earlier concerns, “I…Sam, they remind me of Gonzalez’ men. The ones you escaped from.”

Sam froze.

Kim had told her they were bodyguards. Hector was implying they were criminals, evil ones. Sam’s mind couldn’t match the image of those nasty kidnappers with the vibrant young men she had met today.

_Who should I believe?_ Sam thought worriedly.

  
()()()()()()()()()()()

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: We do not own any recognizable characters or organizations in this story. We are not making any monetary profit either, sadly. Any resemblance to the actual B.A.P. is coincidental, except in regards to Kang Ji Won’s, Kim Ki Bum’s, and the MV director’s conceptual ideas for One Shot.


	6. The Objective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kim has a chat with Yong-guk and Him-chan, and a plan starts rolling.

()()()()()()()()()()()

CHAPTER FIVE: The Objective

 

There was a knock at the cabin door, and a brown head peered in.

“Is it safe to come in now?” Kim asked perfunctorily. Her tone implied that it _better_ be clear of all those girls they brought in yesterday.

Yong-guk smirked, “What if it isn’t?”

“Then she throws them overboard, Yong-guk. Don’t tempt her,” Him-chan chided, amused, from his spot at the dining table, staring out the starboard side window at the shore beyond.

“I wouldn’t be tempted as long as they don’t come back,” Kim stated, coming down the steps into the white, minimalistic living room.

The Sunreef Trimaran allowed for double the size of a lesser yacht’s cabin, which made its occupants feel as if they were standing in a penthouse. Two low gray sofas were positioned parallel to each other, a glass coffee table in between them, with storage underneath. A large flat screen hung from one wall, facing the sliding glass doors opposite, which led out onto the aft deck. One door opened into the kitchen; the other led into the bedrooms.

Yong-guk lounged on one of the sofas, content to stare at the water’s reflection in the ceiling slats. Kim’s smooth face intruded his vision.

“Yong-guk, where are all the contracts I taped on the walls?” she inquired, one eyebrow raised.

Yong-guk sat up and shrugged, “Maybe the girls took them as souvenirs.”

Kim looked ready to argue, probably about to warn him again about what she’d do if he damaged her boats, but Him-chan interrupted. He always did try to keep the peace.

“Hey, the important thing is that the yacht’s still in one piece, Kim. Party aside,” Him-chan said.

Kim turned her head towards Yong-guk’s best friend. She smiled.

The sun had begun to set, which sent rays of soft orange light streaming into the dining rooms windows. Him-chan, sitting where he was, would probably seem all haloed to Kim’s point of view.

Yong-guk nearly rolled his eyes.

“Oy. Him-chan, get over here. Kim, stop making gooey eyes at my second-in-command,” Yong-guk clapped his hands to break the atmosphere. Kim glared at him.

“I was _not_ making--”

“Yes, you were,” Yong-guk objected.

Him-chan settled elegantly onto the opposite sofa, and Kim, of course, sat down next to him. Yong-guk leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“So, I take it you’re here to talk about our mission, Kim,” Yong-guk started.

“Not really. I just want answers,” Kim nodded. Her voice hardened, “and you’re going to give them to me.”

Yong-guk glanced at Him-chan. There was something brittle about Kim at the moment, something that they hadn’t seen since Andrea was killed. Him-chan’s jaw tightened; he saw it, too.

“Why, Yong-guk?” Kim continued, tone soft but dangerous, “Why are you here? Why are you not _out there_ hunting down that bastard?” Her voice had risen until she was spitting the words, “You know what he’s done and who he’s killed!”

“I know verywell who he’s killed!” Yong-guk retorted angrily, jumping to his feet. _How dare she talk like she’s the only one who’s lost someone?_ Kim lost her mother and her friend, but Yong-guk lost _her_ , the only woman he may have ever lov— _No! Don’t think about her now._

Yong-guk turned back, wrenching his mind away from that path. Kim had her hands fisted in her lap now, crushing her expensive purse. She wasn’t looking at him. Her chocolate curls fell forward, shielding her face, which Yong-guk could guess was flushed with emotion.

“I’m sorry, Yong-guk. I didn’t mean to imply that you don’t miss--”

“Don’t talk about her,” Yong-guk interrupted. He saw Kim flinch. _Damn it._ Rare were the times when he felt guilty for being an ass; most of them happened when he was arguing with Kim.

“We haven’t been idle this last year, Kim,” Him-chan’s gentle voice broke through Yong-guk’s thoughts. His trusted friend reached up and tucked Kim’s hair back over her shoulder. It was a quick gesture. His hand returned to its folded position across his chest and he elaborated.

“We _have_ been searching for him, hounding him from place to place, but unfortunately Carlos Rodriguez has gotten too good at hiding, no doubt from the years he spent doing so after our retaliation,” Him-chan said.

“For what he did to my family, yes,” Kim sighed, trying to pull herself together, “I thought he and his resources were completely crushed. How did he manage to return? My father wouldn’t say much after we found out--” Kim’s eyes shifted to him for a moment, “… _she…_ died, and before I knew it, we’d moved to a tropical island.”

“That man Rafael,” Yong-guk answered, “he’s…especially good at his job. At times the people we questioned feared him more than us.”

“It made them very hard to follow,” Him-chan stated, “but he did mess up.”

“How so?” Kim inquired.

“He left behind dead bodies whenever he got carried away,” Yong-guk answered bluntly. Him-chan shot him a stern, disapproving look as if to remind him that Kim did not need any more imagery right now. 

Yong-guk frowned, repentant. He indicated to Him-chan to change the subject with a small gesture. The two often communicated that way, which was exactly why Yong-guk named him second-in-command during operations

“So, now we’re trying something different,” Him-chan spoke directly, “There’s a man named Manuel Gonzalez here in San Juan who runs the main cartels. Zelo dug into Carlos’ financial history, and apparently Gonzalez acquired most of his funds from Carlos ten years ago. Now Mr. Manuel isn’t the most intelligent criminal by far, and yet he has lasted at the top of San Juan’s pyramid for a decade without Carlos. We don’t think this is coincidence.”

“So you’re here to make Manuel tell you Carlos’ location,” Kim gathered, satisfied.

Yong-guk stuffed his hands into his pockets, “Yes, officially. But we’re also here for protection, as you already knew.”

Kim nodded, getting to her feet. She looked tired, as if standing up was the last thing she wanted to do at the moment. Him-chan hurried to stand as well, offering an arm, but Kim politely declined it with one hand raised. She gave Him-chan a shaky smile. Now that Yong-guk looked closer, he could see traces of insomnia—darken areas under her eyes, pale skin.

“Yes, protection,” Kim agreed, heading toward the stairs, “But not only for us.”

“Kim,” Him-chan said, face troubled.

“I know my father has the plates now,” Kim replied, resignedly, “T.S. would be stupid to keep them now that Carlos is targeting him. I guess I understand why Dad wouldn’t tell me that from the beginning. He distracted me quite well by giving me _Le Yacht_ to run,” she chuckled dryly, “and it did work. I’ve made it into a fine business, after all. Probably have more money than you all combined now.”

The attempt at humor did not fool Yong-guk. Kim did the same thing when her mother died, using wit and empty smiles as a cover.

“Anyway, thank you for answering me. You know I’ll help anyway I can. Just give me a call, boys,” Kim turned, one foot on the first step.

“You’re having nightmares again, aren’t you,” Yong-guk presumed, voice cutting across the distance between him and the woman he cared for.

Him-chan glared at his curt delivery, but Yong-guk could tell he was glad his leader broached the problem.

Kim stopped, but didn’t turn back to them.

The sea had swallowed up the sun by now, shadows creeping along the floor, obscuring Kim’s face from Yong-guk and Him-chan.

“Yes,” came Kim’s whispered reply, “But…I’m fine. I called up Dr. Park, and talked to him last month. You guys don’t need to worry, ok?” Her voice sounded almost normal now, and she waved a hand back behind her in farewell, “Now I’ve got to go. Good night.”

She climbed the stairs two at a time, opened the door, and hurried down the dock.

Yong-guk watched her for a moment, then turned to Him-chan, who was already grabbing his wallet and phone. As he shoved them into his pockets, he glanced over at Yong-guk. They shared a look.

Yong-guk tilted his head toward Kim’s direction. Him-chan nodded, and headed out.

They had done the same last time, too, nine years ago. Yong-guk talked; Him-chan comforted. Kim needed both. She didn’t like to show Yong-guk her weak moments, and it had nothing to do with him. It was how their relationship had developed, Yong-guk knew. Him-chan, however, had known her just as long, and between those two existed something…different.

Yong-guk watched through the window as Him-chan caught up to Kim, matching her walking speed. Kim whirled about to face him. Although Yong-guk couldn’t hear them from inside the yacht, he could easily imagine it.

Kim’s mouth moved, most likely insisting that she was fine, that Him-chan need not follow her.

Him-chan was shrugging, probably making up some excuse about taking shifts that blamed it all on Yong-guk. Which was fine for now, Yong-guk supposed. That happened often enough.

Whatever Him-chan said, Kim stared contemplatively at him. _But she’s not saying “No,”_ Yong-guk observed. Him-chan’s left arm made an abortive motion, as if he were about to reach out and lay a hand on Kim’s shoulder, but changed his mind.

Finally, Kim offered a curl of her lips, murmured something, and the pair walk toward the shore together. Not touching, but close enough for it not to matter. Kim trusted Him-chan, the actions showed it to be true. 

Yong-guk sat back down on the sofa as the pair disappeared into the night, assured that Kim would be okay, at least for tonight.

He took out his phone, speed dialing Zelo’s number. Time to plan the next op.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: We don't own anything recognizable in this story. It'd be awfully nice if we did, though. 
> 
> Please leave a review with any thoughts. We like to know what you all think of the story so far. Next up, ACTION!


	7. Sugar Drops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little glimpse of how B.A.P works together as a team--there's a little screen time for everyone. Enjoy!

 

Dae-Hyun pulled into the little gravel lot next to the side ramp at the shore’s edge. Beyond, the dock led across the dark waters, connecting to the main pier from the side. Outlined against the setting sun was the two-story office building of _Le Yacht_.

 

_Bing-di-ling!_

Dae-hyun picked up his cell, unlocking the screen to read the text message he’d just received.

_I’m coming._ The screen showed.

The white-blue glow reflected on his face mirrored the one he saw when he looked up again toward the building. Kim had exited the side door was walking rapidly down the dock. Her face was plunged into a brief darkness as she pocketed her phone.

Dae-hyun saw her face again when she opened the passenger side door and slid into the vehicle. She was wearing a glitzy halter top and short pencil skirt. Four-inch heels that Dae-hyun was surprised hadn’t caused her to trip in the gravel graced her feet.

“Looking good, Noona,” Dae-hyun complimented as he wheeled away from the shore.

Kim smirked. “Not too bad yourself,” Dae-hyun returned her expression.

“Of course. I’ve got to look good for the ladies. That’s part of my job.”

“Yes, it is. You’re way too good at it. Though I’ve got the guys this time around, right? I hear we’re going to one of Manuel’s clubs. Which one again?” Kim asked, checking her make up in the mirror.

“ _Sugar Drops_ ,” Dae-hyun replied, “It’s not far. Yong-guk will fill you in on the other details when we get there.”

“I don’t think I’ll need that many details really. We’ve run enough opts like this one in years past, Dae-hyun. If anything, it oughta be fun!” Kim commented excitedly, tapping her fingers together.

Dae-hyun glanced over at her and grinned. Personally Dae-hyun thought that B.A.P. could handle this one successfully without Kim’s help. Yong-guk, however, had insisted on inviting her. Him-chan had not argued, which meant that both of B.A.P.’s leaders were doing this to cheer up Kim. Dae-hyun had shrugged in the end and went along. Kim was fun, especially since she could hold her own against Yong-guk verbally.

They pulled to a stop two blocks away from the _Sugar Drops Club_ entrance. The rest of his B.A.P. brothers were standing on the curb, underneath the dark awning of a closed bakery. He got out, locked his doors, and joined the group.

Young-jae immediately fist-bumped him with a grin and a “Hey!” Jong-up also greeted him, as well as Yong-guk, who glanced at his watch. Him-chan had eyes only for Kim, though he tried to be casual about it. Zelo, on the other hand, looked at no one, typing on his phone instead, one ear bud hanging down his chest.

Of the seven of them, only Zelo was dressed down in a tee and jeans. The rest of them wore variants of button-down shirts and pressed slacks. Dae-hyun had also added a jacket, regardless of the night heat.

“Okay, we’re all here, let’s do a quick review, Him-chan,” Yong-guk stated authoritatively. Everyone turned towards him, forming a rough circle. Zelo pulled out his remaining ear bud. Jong-up popped his knuckles, and Kim tugged her skirt down. Dae-hyun slid his hands into his pockets, wishing he had some gum. He focused better with gum. Or food. Yum, food.

Him-chan nodded and launched into everyone’s job in tonight’s operation.

“The goal is to discover Manuel’s warehouse locations. He’s pretty small town as far as the bosses we’re used to, but he still has a rough system of passwords that he entrusts to his higher-ups. Zelo found out that they had a reservation at _Sugar Drops_ tonight to celebrate one of those higher-up’s 30th birthday, a man by the name of Diego.

Kim, you’ve got Diego. He’ll probably be drinking and happy as a hen, so you play nice and get him away from Manuel. Be careful, okay?”

Kim looked annoyed, “I know, Him-chan. I’ve played this game plenty of times.”

“Yes, but it’s been more than a year since you’ve worked with us,” B.A.P.’s second in command noted, concern written across his face. Yong-guk decided to speak up.

“Eh, considering how she’s dressed, I doubt she’ll be in trouble of breaking her cover. Let’s keep going. Dae-hyun, you’re in charge of keeping the attention of his entourage of women. They’re part of his prostitution ring, most likely, so they’ll appreciate you being a gentleman. Jong-up and I will grab a table and be the sentinels in case things go badly. No one should bother us if Jong-up does his bodyguard look.”

“But if there’s trouble, lemme handle it, Yong-guk! I’m itching for a good fight,” Young-jae added, bouncing a bit on his toes. Yong-guk grinned at him indulgently, but shook his head.

“There shouldn’t be a fight. I know I told you to be on distraction duty tonight, but don’t escalate it into something that will trash the club.” At Young-jae’s pout, he added, “After we get the passwords, you can expend your energy trashing the warehouses as much as you like, all right?”

Young-jae punched the air in front of him eagerly, “Ok, Hyung, you got it.”

“Him-chan’s on close-up subterfuge. In this case, we have to get a bug close enough to Manuel to hear his conversations with his other men. So, that leads us to Zelo, who, of course, has the tech,” Him-chan waved toward their youngest member, who stepped forward.

“Yep. So, Him-chan, here’s the bug. It’s a size of a dime so don’t drop it accidentally. I didn’t make it glow in the dark. Everyone else, here are your ear pieces. I’ve got my laptop,” Zelo tapped his messenger bag, “and I’ll be waiting in Dae-hyun’s car, eating my sandwich, and watching the club entrance.”

Dae-hyun frowned, jealous that Zelo got to eat, but fished out his keys.

“Clean up after yourself, Zelo. I don’t want come back to crumbs on my seat.” Zelo grinned impishly, which didn’t reassure Dae-hyun at all. He didn’t get to say any further warnings because Yong-guk had started off down the sidewalk, waving them to follow

Instead, Dae-hyun shot Zelo a last warning I-am-watching-you glower as the eighteen-year-old slipped into the back seat. Zelo always got the best jobs. Sitting around judging everyone from the safety of distance. Not that running an op was without its perks. Dae-hyun’s job, he had to admit, was easy, and the girls loved him.

Smoothing his bangs, Dae-hyun turned in time to see Kim pull out a platinum blond wig and flip it onto her head. She adjusted it using another car’s window reflection.

“Why are you wearing that, Kim?” Him-chan inquired by her side.

“Well, as you pointed out, Him-chan, I _have_ been here a year. And _Le Yacht_ has gotten quite successful. I’ve been in the newspaper. People might recognize me, so I’m wearing this tonight. See? I am being careful,” Kim explained. She finished with the wig, turning to Him-chan, “Now how do I look?”

Him-chan smiled _that_ smile. Dae-hyun barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Thank the gods he was a better actor than Him-chan.

“I should never have doubted you,” Him-chan said, “You look very pretty as a blond Asian person.”

“Har har, Him-chan. Nice joke about B.A.P.’s name,” Kim replied. Dae-hyun thought he saw her blush anyway. Kim paused, nervous suddenly, then looked away. 

_“Are you guys coming, or what?”_ Yong-guk’s voice sounded in Dae-hyun’s ear. Kim and Him-chan, having received the same message, pulled away from each other. Kim hurried down the street, high heels clacking on the concrete.

Dae-hyun smirked at Him-chan as he overtook him, forming his hands into a heart mockingly and nodding towards Kim. Him-chan huffed, and punched him on the arm.

“There’s nothing going on, ok?” the older man muttered. Dae-hyun just smiled.

 

()()()()()()

 

The club was dark and smoky, like most clubs, and Dae-hyun could barely hear voices over the deep bass rhythm pulsing through the room. Luckily, he had the earpiece.

_“To your places, B.A.P.,”_ Yong-guk commanded. He and Jong-up had already entered fifteen minutes ago and picked a table. Jong-up was indeed in full out bodyguard mode, dissuading any hopeful gaggle of girls from disturbing his hyung. Yong-guk looked like he was simply resting, but Dae-hyun could tell he could see most of the club from his vantage point.

_“Manuel is toward the southeast corner, away from the bar. Diego’s hanging out there, too, along with another higher-up.”_ Him-chan’s calm tones echoed in his ear. Dae-hyun purposely did not look at him or Young-jae as he passed the bar, heading towards the indicated corner.

There was Manuel, a fat old man with an untrimmed beard and a barking voice, sprawled on the black couch. He looked just like the picture Zelo had showed them. Tanned skin and black hair with a receding hairline. A big-breasted dark-haired woman snuggled against his left arm, looking bored as Manuel chatted with the other man.

Diego lounged on another chair, two bottles of beer already discarded on the low table in front of him. He, at least, was slim, and sharply dressed. _Fortunately for Kim,_ Dae-hyun thought. Kim probably wouldn’t like hitting up a wretch like Manuel. Dae-hyun’s eyes found his targets, standing together opposite Diego, watching the dance floor.

Dae-hyun straightened his jacket, put on an angelic smile, and grabbed a couple drinks from the waitress. Time to enchant some ladies.

Ten minutes later, the three girls were all laughing jovially as he gabbed about his made-up tale. He had been sure to throw out plenty of compliments, none of them sexual. Being a gentleman, naturally, meant treating these wary women as if they were queens. He doubted they got as much from their clients.

Kim was the only one he could see from his position. She had seated herself close to Diego, crossing one leg over the other, and twirling a strand of hair coyly. Dae-hyun could hear her words through his earpiece.

_“You’ve got to be, like, really rich. You stand out, you know,”_ Kim was saying. That was the fifteenth time she had used “like,” and Dae-hyun almost snorted.

A new song came on and the blond girl yelped excitedly and asked him to dance. He graciously accepted. Out on the dance floor, the girl didn’t mind that he didn’t talk; neither of them could hear each other anyway. He was able to glance around the club as they turned. Bonus, if he was reading the other two girls correctly, they were busy gossiping about him, instead of watching Manuel.

_“I’ve got a plan, and Young-jae’s ready to go.”_ That was Him-chan.

_“Like the one we pulled in Osaka? Yea, that should work,”_ Yong-guk gave his approval, _“How’s the street, Zelo?”_

_“Everything’s quiet out here. Go for it.”_ Zelo answered.

_“Okay, here I go, Him-chan.”_ Young-jae’s voice announced happily.

Dae-hyun spotted his friend heading towards Manuel. He had adopted a wobbly gait, leaning heavily on Him-chan. His gesticulating arms held a clear plastic cup of beer in one hand. Several club goers yelled when he almost hit them with the drink as he passed. Young-jae went on obliviously.

 

The two were now behind the man Manuel was talking to, and Young-jae suddenly decided he liked the song so much, he broke out into a wild move…conveniently spilling the rest of his drink onto Manuel’s companion.

His shirt soaked, the man shouted and stood up, whirling around, words of rebuke falling from his mouth.

Him-chan intervened immediately, face the picture of apologetic. He pulled out his pocket square and leaned forward, trying to mop up the spill with one hand. Dae-hyun saw his other hand slide discreetly over the man’s outer jacket pocket, but only because Dae-hyun had expected the motion.

Him-chan’s quick hand had dropped the bug in the pocket of Manuel’s higher-up. _Smart,_ Dae-hyun thought. They’d still be able to hear the pair, even if they moved locations.

The now bugged man waved Him-chan off impatiently. Young-jae continued his act, stepping up to drunkenly try to pat the man’s shoulder.  The man growled and shoved the smaller man, sending him to the floor. Then he turned with a parting sneer and headed towards the bathroom.

With one last apology, Him-chan grabbed Young-jae—who was hiccupping now—and hauled him away, feigning embarrassment.

_“Maneuver complete,”_ Him-chan intoned once they were back at the bar.

_“Zelo, report.”_ Yong-guk that time.

_“Bug is online.”_ Zelo confirmed, _“Of course, now I’m stuck hearing him go to the bathroom. Ugh. Aw man! He just opened a stall door. Sounds like a number two. Hyuunng! Can I please turn it off for a little bit?”_

_“No, Zelo. Tell us when he’s back and if he and Manuel discuss the passwords.”_ Yong-guk commanded.

Dae-hyun smirked. Yes, at least for tonight, he got a better deal than both Young-jae and Zelo.

_“Looks like that man might be awhile. Kim, got anything from Diego?”_ Dae-hyun realized then that he had totally tuned out the words coming from Kim’s direction. He switched partners—leading out a brunette girl to dance this time—and found Kim frowning slightly at Diego’s side.

The pair was standing now, leaning against the low wall that separated Manuel from the main club pit. Diego’s eyes were roaming the crowd, unfortunately, and not focused on Kim and her exposed legs.

_“You’re losing your touch, Noona,”_ Dae-hyun teased. The mic should pick up the vibrations from his jaw easily despite the ambient noise.

Kim discreetly flipped him a “fuck you” gesture from where she stood. A couple guys passed her and Diego, almost running into them. Kim’s eyes suddenly narrowed.

_“Well, Mr. Diego, I’ve gotta go use the little girls’ room for just a sec. I’ll be right back!”_ Kim’s said cheerily, before she headed toward the restrooms.

From inside the door, Kim spoke more freely over the comms as she washed her hands.

_“I have a problem.”_ She told them. _“That man is does not swing my way.”_

Dae-hyun chuckled. Young-jae beat him to the jibe though.

_“Ah, Noona, just because you’ve lost your touch doesn’t mean you need to get all testy about it!”_ he teased.

_“Oh, you’ll pay for that comment Young-jae,”_ Kim growled. _“But, actually, what I meant was that Diego is gay.”_

_“What? No way!”_ Young-jae retorted.

_“Oh, yes he is. I tried all the slutty girl tricks. Nothing. But the moment those two guys brushed past us, his eyes go straight to their asses,”_ Kim explained bluntly. Well, this was unexpected.

_“What do you think, Yong-guk? Should we just wait for what the bug tells us, then?”_ Him-chan asked.

_“I could drag him outside and beat it out of him,”_ Young-jae volunteered.

_“Young-jae! C’mon!”_ Dae-hyun could practically hear Kim’s eye roll through the earpiece.

_“What? I’m just saying.”_

_“Or we could just find someone else to distract him,”_ Yong-guk interjected.

_“Yes…someone good at flirting with any breathing human being,”_ Him-chan added. His tone sounded awfully suspicious.

There was a beat of silence, where no one said anything…and Dae-hyun felt his stomach plummet.

“No,” he denied instantly.

Young-jae started laughing. Since he was playing drunk, he was laughing rather raucously, too.

“What did you say?” the third girl he was dancing with shouted.

“Nothing!” Dae-hyun shouted back, distracted. Even Him-chan was chuckling now.

“Splendid,” Kim responded devilishly, “I’ll go back to Diego and tell him I really _must_ introduce him to one of my bestest BFF’s!”

_“Manuel’s man just returned from the restroom,”_ Jong-up spoke up. Hope fluttered in Daey-hyun’s stomach for a moment—

_“Dae-hyun continue with the new plan. We can get a confirmation for the information this way,”_ Yong-guk said.

\--and then the hope was shoved off a cliff.

Well, damn, it looked like he drew the short straw after all. Dae-hyun sighed, and led the girl back to her friends. The blond instantly reached out for another dance with him. He made some apologies that he wasn’t sure they heard, and turned towards Kim.

As he neared Diego and Kim, he struggled to forget all his mental laments, and pulled on his suave rich boy persona. Kim met him halfway. She reached out and pulled off his jacket.

“What are you doing?” Dae-hyun whispered, irked.

“Making you look sexier,” she replied glibly. She had the audacity to tousle his hair, too! “There! Now, smile like the sex god you are—good!—it’s much better now that you’re older. Great job!”

“You are not making me feel any better, Noona,” Dae-hyun replied darkly, though he made his face neutral in case Diego was watching.

“Yes, I am, ‘cause you are a professional, and you’ll do great, hot stuff,” Kim answered, winking. Dae-hyun was _so_ going to get her back for this!

Then her voice increased in volume, as she pulled him towards the waiting birthday celebrant, “Diego! Meet my friend!”

Dae-hyun looked the man up and down conspicuously, and smiled, leaning forwards. Up close, he could see the dry skin under Diego’s nose, characteristic of heroin use. The sclera of his eyes were slightly yellowed, and one of his two front teeth was plated gold.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Dae-hyun said gamely, shaking hands without a single wince, though he felt like pulling away every second. Diego met his eyes, lustful interest shining in their depths. _Yep, definitely gay_.

Kim whispered something into Diego’s ear, giggled at Dae-hyun, and departed, heading towards the three girls Dae-hyun had deserted. They had essentially traded places. Ugh, and the night had started out so promising…that blond had been completely infatuated with him.

_“What did you say to Diego, Kim?”_ Him-chan asked curiously.

_“Oh, I just told him Dae-hyun was bi,”_ Kim replied, _“and that he practically gave himself away if Diego could get him drunk enough.”_

Dae-hyun almost screamed, “What?!” but held his tongue at the last minute.

Diego seemed to notice his distress because he swung one arm over Dae-hyun’s back and rubbed it soothingly. Too soothingly.

Somewhere in the background Young-jae was snickering with abandon.

Dae-hyun was gonna kill him, too.

 

()()()()()()

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: We don't own anything here. Sad day.
> 
> So, excited yet??? :D Leave a review if you liked this chapter! I certainly did when I wrote it. --C.


	8. Sugar Drops II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dae-hyun must finish the mission. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: We own nothing but the OC’s and the plot. Keep your panties straight.

 

CHAPTER SEVEN: Sugar Drops Part II

 

It had been twenty minutes during which Dae-hyun had uttered so many sugary compliments, he swore his tongue was going to shrivel up any minute. But he couldn’t deny that he had skill. Diego was eating up his every word.

 

They had relocated far from Manuel, choosing at a tall table—one of those without chairs, but just high enough to lean on and set drinks upon. Diego had happily agreed to a couple rounds of shots—which Dae-hyun had surreptitiously emptied over his shoulder both times—even as he had toasted Diego a happy birthday. Now Diego’s arm was slung behind Dae-hyun, resting on the wall’s railing, while he blabbed on about his position as one of Manuel’s right-hand man.

 

Dae-hyun acted appropriately awed, “Well you are clearly making bank.”

 

“Oh sí, sí! In fact, lessum order more drinks.” He gave Dae-hyun a sly look, words slurring slighty, “Things aaare so much more fun when aaalcoholll can llloosen one’s inheebitions.”

 

Dae-hyun smiled tightly, leaning back against Deigo’s arm. The movement showed off his chest. “Of course.”

 

That seemed to be all the encouragement the man needed, because he quickly hailed the waitress to order another couple of beers.

 

Dae-hyun glanced across the room. Kim had led the three girls to talk with Young-jae and Him-chan. Yong-guk was still sitting alone with Jong-up. Though his mouth was moving, Jong-up wasn’t responding, which meant Yong-guk was talking with Zelo.

 

Dae-hyun could hear the Manuel’s conversation, too, transmitting from the bug, but he hadn’t had time to pay close enough attention to catch any passwords.

 

Well, seems it was all up to Dae-hyun, then.

 

“Your job must be incredibly difficult, Diego,” Dae-hyun was sure to emphasize the man’s name in a breathy tone, as if the name was akin to a deity’s.

 

“All those thugs to lead, after all, and not a brain between them. You probably have to remember all the information yourself,” Dae-hyun said.

 

Diego seemed distracted by Dae-hyun’s lips as he spoke; his eyes were glued to them.

 

“Diego?” Dae-hyun prompted.

 

_“Qué? Ah, sí_! I’mm one of thossse few trusted with running Manuel’s warehoooouses. He’s not reeeallllly a hard man to please, if you know what he llahkes, but he ssurre hoardss his security. Don’t know whyyy he hass to havvve a difffferent password everyyy week,” Diego shared.

 

“Really?? Are they, like, crazy words or something?” Dae-hyun inquired.

 

“Naaahh, _mi hombre bonito_ ,” Diego practically purred, “They’re allll wordsss that describe women’s lingeerrie. Hahaha! That Manuel!! Lasst week it waaasss, ah, lemme think, right, it was ‘bra de dulces’ –candyyy braaa,” Diego laughed again. His tooth flashed in the club lighting.

 

“Oh, that’s funny,” Dae-hyun clamped down on the urge to roll his eyes, “And what about this week?”

 

“Thisss week? Ooh, this week is ‘bragas rosas,’ but mee, I’m a maaann who prefffers briefffss and boxersss.” Then, Diego took a large swig of his beer. His eyes bore into Dae-hyun’s meaningfully, and as he brought the bottle back down, his tongue swirled around the bottle neck suggestively.

 

Panic jolted through Dae-hyun, and his eyes widened before he could stop them. Luckily, Diego took it to mean that Dae-hyun was affected in an entirely different way, and smiled eagerly.

 

His arm dropped forwards to rest on Dae-hyun’s left shoulder, and he turned his body towards him.

 

_“Y ustéd?”_ His lips brushed Dae-hyun’s bangs as he spoke. The smell of Dos Equis wafted across Dae-hyun’s nostrils.

 

Then, Diego turned his hips subtly, and Dae-hyun yanked away when he felt the stiff flesh graze his right leg. _Gah!_

Diego seemed confused that Dae-hyun was suddenly gone. Not wanting to incur the man’s drunken wrath, Dae-hyun quickly circled the table and whispered to Diego’s right ear instead.

 

“Not here,” Dae-hyun’s mind zipped about trying to come up with an escape plan, “Um, wait ten minutes, and then follow me to the bathroom. You can have your birthday present then, Diego.” Dae-hyun ended his words huskily for good measure.

 

Diego’s eyes sparked and he smiled hungrily. Dae-hyun didn’t wait around and sped toward the back, where he had seen Kim go earlier.

 

From the exclamations through his earpiece, the others had noticed his harried departure. He burst through ‘ _Hombres’_ labeled door, breathing out thankfully when he spotted a window.

 

“I got the password, and I’m getting out of here, guys. Don’t try to stop me!” Dae-hyun quickly bashed the lock open with his shoe, and opened the glass pane.

 

In one smooth move, he hauled himself through the opening and landed deftly into the darkened alleyway, crouched like a cat.

 

He headed back towards the entrance, crossed the street, and rounded back towards where he had parked his car.

 

“Guys, that was too intense. What the hell!” Dae-hyun cursed.

 

He reached the car at the same time Yong-guk and Jong-up did. Both of them were smirking at him.

 

Yong-guk coughed, “Ahem, well, good job, Dae-hyun, as usual. You handled the plan alteration well.” He patted the younger man’s shoulder sympathetically.

 

Dae-hyun nodded. Of course he did. He could woo anybody. Dae-hyun shrugged the hand off when he spied Him-chan, Young-jae, and Kim rounding the corner.

 

“Dammit, Noona, get that smile off your face! Why’d you have to egg him on? And then you abandoned me!!” Dae-hyun accused.

 

Kim slowed, hiding behind the other two, still snickering into her hand.

 

Young-jae quickly sidestepped. “Don’t hide behind me, Noona! I’m not getting in the middle of this.”

 

“Like hell, Young-jae! I _heard_ you laughing at my expense!” Dae-hyun pointed at him. Young-jae put his hands up in surrender.

 

“You could’ve escaped earlier, Dae-hyun,” Yong-guk said nonchalantly.

 

“Yea, but then we wouldn’t have the password. I _did_ fulfill the mission, you know. I got Diego to talk,” Dae-hyun drew himself up proudly.

 

“Actually, you got us confirmation,” Him-chan noted. Dae-hyun blinked.

 

_Wait, what?_

“I heard the warehouse locations and the words ‘ _bragas rosas’_ from Manuel’s conversation ten minutes and 23 seconds after that other guy returned from the toilet,” Zelo added, climbing out of the car. His voice was cheeky with amusement.

  
“We all heard it, Dae-hyun,” Jong-up chimed in.

 

“WHAT?! Then why didn’t anyone _rescue_ me?” Dae-hyun demanded angrily.

 

“Manuel had also mentioned a key that would open the drug imports crates in the one of the warehouses. I’d rather we steal that stuff than destroy it. From what I heard, I think Diego had the key on him,” Yong-guk explained.

 

“Well, I didn’t get it, Hyung!” Dae-hyun replied, “In any case, I would’ve gone with Young-jae and Jong-up to blast those crates open myself instead of staying to help Diego celebrate his blasted birthday in some dirty lavatory.”

 

“I’m all for blasting! Let’s go!” Young-jae agreed. Dae-hyun renewed his glare. Young-jae wasn’t off the hook yet.

 

“Actually,” Kim said, mouth twisting with hesitation. Dae-hyun shifted his glare onto the faux blond. “I…sorta…lifted the key from Diego’s jacket pocket when I leaned in to whisper to him.”

 

She pulled out a large brass key from her purse. It shone mockingly at Dae-hyun.

 

“THAT’S IT!” Dae-hyun shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

 

“I hadn’t known what it was for yet! I just thought it’d be important,” Kim protested, but Dae-hyun ignored her, swiveling to Zelo instead.

 

“Zelo, give me back my keys!” Dae-hyun snatched the rapidly offered items, and stalked towards the driver door. He was sure his face looked livid. “And grab all your crap. You all can walk home!”

 

He jabbed the keys into the ignition, started the engine, and the moment Zelo scurried out with his stuff shoved hastily back into his bag, Dae-hyun shifted into gear.

 

The other B.A.P. members plus Kim stood on the sidewalk, in varying shades of disbelief or concealed delight.

 

“Fuck you guys!” Dae-hyun yelled, only half-jokingly out the window as he accelerated away.

 

He was gonna keep driving until he calmed down and forgot all about stupid Diego, his golden tooth, and his sexual advances.

  
Dae-hyun sighed. They were only teasing him because he rarely stumbled in his part of the job, he knew. Usually it was Young-jae’s temper that created any setbacks (sometimes Dae-hyun thought his friend did it on purpose, just for fun).

 

However, for tonight, the joke was on him.

 

_I’m never living this down,_ Dae-hyun thought morosely, and drove into the night.

 

()()()()()()()()()()

 


	9. Setting the Chessboard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to get all the players to the table. Hang onto your hats, here there be OC's. Characters of both the illegal and legal types.

 

“Yes, the plates are safe, T.S.” Derek confirmed over his satellite-linked cell, as he took a sip from his margarita.

At times like these, Derek could take the time to appreciate the beauty of Puerto Rico, especially its smooth sand beaches. He had chosen a random island in a rush the day he’d received word that Kayla had been killed by Carlos. T.S. had given him the money plates, and told him to disappear, and that he’d cover for Derek in the meantime. Given what had happened the last time they had seen Carlos, Derek knew the man’s need for revenge would be high.

Accessing one of his back-up accounts on the Grand Caymans had been the simple part. Convincing his daughter to let go of everything back home had been another story.

But after a year, Kim had been adjusting extremely well…at least Derek hoped so. He tried to provide every distraction he could, tried to convey with his antics that everything would be all right, that Kim could believe she was safe.

He knew most days he succeeded. Other days, especially days that Derek slipped up himself—seeing his wife’s face looking back at him from his daughter’s eyes—Kim would throw up her walls, shrinking back into her burning desire for revenge. They had mended much of their father-daughter relationship during the seven years Carlos was believed to have been beaten. That he had returned now meant Derek was on the rocks again.

Kim did not agree with his actions, but Derek was the parent here. His priority was her safety. He had already failed Mi-yung once; he would not fail her again by not protecting their only child.

“Still with me, Derek?” T.S.’s baritone voice called.

“Ah, yes, T.S. Sorry about that. I was thinking about my wife,” Derek admitted quietly.

“Fantasizing again, no doubt,” T.S. said irreverently. Derek’s mouth twitched. T.S. never did let him fall into a guilt-trip.

“Oh, she would want me to! She’s probably whispering dirty things into my ear from the afterlife,” Derek retorted.

T.S. chuckled. He always chuckled, or snorted, or huffed his amusement; never laughed outright. He was just that kind of man—kept everything very close. In that way, T.S. and he were opposites. Derek preferred letting all of his emotions fall and land where they may. Made him unpredictable. Plus, he just wasn’t that mentally disciplined. At least, not when it came to friends and family.

“And what about Yong-guk?” T.S. prompted, “And B.A.P. in general?”

“They’re trashing Manuel Gonzalez’s operations quite thoroughly. He’s lost quite a few warehouses to fires, a boat full of his girls went missing two days ago, and I believe B.A.P. robbed him of his finest cocaine crate just last night. I’ve kept one of my spies in the San Juan police on alert in case the authorities catch on, but turns out most of them are already under Manuel’s pay, so I hear about every loss the cartel leader has endured. You’ve certainly trained those boys well.”

“Of course I have. I would never have brought them together otherwise,” T.S. stated.

“And on your end?” Derek asked, “Has Carlos pursued you further?”

“No. Not since Kayla’s death. Probably doesn’t want to make the same mistake as last time, killing that girl Andrea instead of Kim.”

T.S. spoke of his daughter’s death without a single hitch in his voice. So matter-of-fact. Derek knew T.S. had nerves of steel, so he did not ask any inane questions about how T.S. was handling everything. T.S. never asked Derek for any emotional support, either. They were like brothers. They both knew the other would listen, if necessary, but they very rarely took up on that offer. No, the last time T.S. had done that was when they had both been in their twenties, and T.S. had (while tipsy) asked him in vague terms about some woman.

T.S. continued speaking.

“Carlos is running two fronts—double-checking if I still have the plates, and trying to find out if you’re its keeper now,” T.S. said, “I made it easy enough for his man to find out where B.A.P. was going on the Royal Caribbean, though perhaps those two sisters would not thank me now.”

“So you lured him here? Sounds risky, T.S. I don’t like it. We betrayed him--”

“He was already a traitor, Derek. He would have betrayed us, had we not done it first. It was his own mistake that we ended up with the plates,” T.S. interjected.

“Fine. I concede that point. I just don’t like the fact that neither of us knew he had dared to get back in the game, not until a year ago. He’s a vengeful son of a bitch,” Derek growled.

“We all are. But he has fewer resources, now. He doesn’t have either of us aiding him. You forget how much he benefited in the beginning by simply associating with us.”

“All right, but having that piece of garbage Rafael doing his dirty work is risky enough. Especially since Kim is giving B.A.P. a hand, as she is wont to do. She’s in danger,” Derek contended.

“She always is, being your daughter.” T.S. reminded him, and Derek had to acknowledge the truth in that.

T.S. went on, “And I’d rather have B.A.P. there than not. Getting Carlos’ attention is part of the plan. Once we know where he has been lurking, we can deal with him for good this time. He will not return to threaten you and your family, Derek,” T.S. explained. “Yong-guk has his orders. By the end of their mission, the plates should be out of your hands, and we’ll have Carlos pinned.”

Abruptly, T.S. made a gargle, then a spitting noise.

“Are you brushing your teeth?” Derek inquired, surprised.

“Yes. Quit forgetting the time differences, my friend. You’re old, I know, but we’ve been over this. It’s eleven at night in Seoul right now.” The sounds of brushing drifted over the speaker.

“Okay, so perhaps I am old. But that means you are, too,” Derek replied sullenly. “We used to treat two A.M. as our lunch time, you recall.”

He stretched, making sure T.S. could hear him, and sighed in relaxation, “Well, fine. Get some sleep, and I will enjoy my white sand and alcoholic beverages. Maybe I’ll even read a book. Play a bit of golf.”

“Ha, you’ve gotten too acclimated to vacations. I happen to enjoy my work,” T.S. replied.

“That’s because you thrive on secrets and manipulation, T.S.” Derek rejoined.

“True.” He sounded smug.

Derek sighed, mentally, this time. It was difficult to tease T.S., but Derek supposed he should be used to it. And maybe a year with relatively little to no work _had_ made him soft.

“Jal ja, T.S.” Derek uttered.

“I will. Keep me updated.”

The line cut off, and Derek took another long sip of his drink.

 

()()()()()()()()()()

_Langley, Virginia, USA_

CIA Director Noah Haversham stood staring past the blinds at the street below. Little cars and little people went about their lives—not oblivious, not entirely. But enough to know that ignoring the dangers in life, the threats to their country, was the best option for daily life. Forget how fragile everything could be. Think not of those who existed to break the peace.

However, Haversham was not one of those people. His job was not to ignore the threats, but to track them down, and drag them into the light.

Well, that _had_ been his job, back when he was a field agent. Now, two years after he had agreed to be Director of Operations, he was the one to point field agents towards their targets. The one to make the calls from the command room. The strategist. The chess grandmaster.

At the moment, he was not brooding in the command center, but rather a shadowy conference room. He hadn’t bothered to turn on the light when he entered. Most people overlooked a room with the lights off, anyway. If someone really needed him, they’d have his cell number.

Agent Hampton had called him here today, concerning his history with a certain rogue CIA agent, a loathsome name to go with a loathsome man whom Haversham still recalled when he least wanted to. His fingers dug into his palm just thinking about the man.

“You know, the newbies are already scared of you, and here you are lingering in the dark like a vampire,” Agent Hampton said, voice gravelly, as he flipped the light switch. Harsh fluorescence filled the room, “Yea, you look worse with the lights on.”

“Funny, Mike,” Haversham acknowledged, turning around. “I thought these days the youngin’s liked vampires. Sparkly ones, or something?” He took a seat, one hand holding his tie away from the desk. Agent Hamptom sat as well, slapping a thick file folder on the table.

“Hell if I know, Noah,” Hampton snorted.

Haversham liked Michael Hampton. He was ten years his junior, but seasoned enough to do his job well and without much direction. Being fit enough for field work made Hampton able to go case-to-case basis, unlike Haversham himself.

Hampton was an upbeat sort of fellow despite the tiresome cases he had taken over the years. He also somehow maintained a strict division between his work and his personal life, which allowed him a fresh attitude, even at his age. Haversham did not know how he managed that particular feat, and truly, he couldn’t do it even if he knew how. Haversham’s life was firmly entwined with the agency.

The door opened then to admit three other people. Agent William Casey, Hampton’s partner and communications specialist, wore square glasses and carried a projector, which he went about setting up after a cursory greeting to them both. A middle-aged woman with graying hair sat down next, pulling out a notebook to jot down meeting minutes. _She must be Hampton’s in-house coordinator,_ Haversham thought. He could not remember her name. Jessi? Jamie? He resolved to look up her badge number later.

The third person was a broad-shouldered, athletic young man, dressed in a blue button-up and pin-striped tie—but no suit jacket—with his badge clipped on his waistband.

Agent Eli Kennedy. The CIA’s newest…prodigy.

But not the only prodigy. Many talented men and women came to work for the CIA, and Haversham knew a good handful of them personally. Others he had worked with now and then over the years, either until they had retired, or until they had been…no longer able to work.

He wondered if Kennedy understood yet that both regular agents and prodigies died all the same.

Death did not spare you if you happened to be smart.

The kid stated his greetings and took one of the chairs, outwardly calm. Haversham wondered what he was here for, and asked Hampton as much.

“He’s here because he has relevant information,” Hampton replied, “But let’s recap first.”

At Haversham’s nod, he continued, “I’ve been on the case of Tae-sung Kim a.k.a. T.S. for quite some time now. He’s one of the major players in East Asia’s mafia scene, as I’m sure everyone here already knows. To make a long story short, he’s unfathomably rich. Rich enough to have his own hit-squad, a group named B.A.P.

We don’t know what the letters stand for, nor do we know where T.S. recruited these men. The important part is that they’re deadly and efficient, and have been for years. We’ve recently come across some information that points to B.A.P.’s current location in San Juan, Puerto Rico. Casey and I have been trying to figure out what they’re doing there.”

“You have an undercover agent already in San Juan, as I recall,” Haversham pointed out. He gave Hampton a sharp look.

“Yes,” Hampton admitted, “and the agent has been updated on the mission parameters. Originally our agent started years ago as reconnaissance, but...due to the additional parties, the agent had to start keeping track of B.A.P. as well—still in observation capacity only, for now. We’ve received a couple reports, and today, there was word from our agent’s man in the San Juan police officers—apparently the majority of them are dirty cops there—that B.A.P. has been targeting one Manuel Gonzalez.”

Here, Hampton pulled a picture from his folder and laid it in the center of the table.

Haversham recognized the man immediately, and he did not enjoy that fact one bit. His stomach curled in on itself.

“And this is why you called me, isn’t it?” The question was rhetorical, but Hampton nodded anyway.

“Sir, you knew Christopher Milano before he went rogue, correct?” Agent Casey asked for the record.

Haversham inclined his head, “Correct. I was also there the day he fully defected and killed Agent Jonathan Cho.”

The room went into an icy silence. The unnamed woman had also stopped taking notes.

Haversham sighed, reigning in his emotions under the familiar mental leash. He could deal with it later, after he clocked out. “And yes, I can confirm that he is a known associate of Manuel Gonzalez; Milano was his benefactor, actually. I take it this is our first wind of Milano—or Rodriguez, as he goes by now—since a year ago when he went after T.S.’s daughter?”

“Yes sir,” Agent Casey responded. “We were unable to prevent the kidnapping since Mila—I mean, Rodriguez’s—case had gone cold back in 2003. He caught us—and the mafia, too, it seemed—by surprise. He eventually killed the girl, and disappeared immediately after that.”

“And now you believe that T.S. is using his squad to mess with Gonzalez and bait

Rodriguez into showing himself?” Haversham confirmed.

“Right. T.S. would not have let Rodriguez off easily for what he did. Plus, there’s a heap of bad blood between them anyway. We believe B.A.P.’s main goal is to kill Rodriguez once and for all,” Hampton explained.

“And we need to get to Rodriguez and arrest him first,” Haversham concluded, “And possibly that Gonzalez, too. And don’t forget what Rodriguez took. We must retrieve those money plates.”

“We know, and that’s why we want to keep it a slow game for now, Director,” Casey said, “If this group B.A.P. manages to lure him to San Juan, it’d behoove us to wait for them to do so. Hampton’s undercover agent could keep an eye on Manuel in the meantime.

As much as we want to catch this guy given what he’s inflicted and how he’s eluded us for years, we know very little of what he’s done while his case was sent to limbo, or what he may have at his disposal now.”

“Which leads us to young Kennedy, here, I presume,” Haversham inferred, swinging towards the yet-to-speak young agent.

Kennedy flicked his eyes to Haversham. His azure gaze was direct, clear, if not exactly deferential. He lounged in his chair like only young men could do—one ankle crossed over the other leg’s knee, leaning backwards so far in his chair, Haversham half-expected him to fall over any minute.

The kid was astute enough to deduce what Haversham’s gaze meant, because he smirked ever so slightly and swung his body up to standing with one smooth motion.

_A bit of show off, too,_ Haversham noted.

“I guess that’s my cue?” Kennedy asked Agent Hampton perfunctorily.

Agent Hampton looked at him, a bit sardonically, “Yea, you’re up kid. To the point, now. And preen those peacock feathers down. You’ve been in the CIA two years, yes, but that’s a drop in the hat compared to some of us. We all know you’re skilled.”

Agent Kennedy only smiled, replying, “Yes, sir.”

Haversham reviewed his memory, recalling what was in Kennedy’s file. Recruited out of college, excelled in all the academy programs, and since joining the CIA ranks, has detained three known fugitives. The kid produced results, that much was certain. For how much longer was the question. It was always the cold cases that wore down on the initial wonder of CIA work.

Kennedy had finished connecting his laptop to the projector now, and turned to speak to the rest of the room.

“In the last year of my whirlwind trip through the academy,” Kennedy began, voice strong, “I did my thesis on Carlos Rodriguez. He intrigued me. His ‘bad blood,’ as Agent Hampton put it, between the mafia lords T.S. Kim, Derek Le, as well as many others, not to mention the CIA, put our guy at #1 among fugitives who are incredibly good at pissing other people off.”

Agent Hampton groused, “Professional vocabulary, please, for the record.” He gestured toward the note-taking woman.

“OK.” Kennedy waved glibly. “Then, for the record, I need to summarize Rodriguez’s history. Please turn your attention to the slides.”

The man clicked a button, and a picture of Carlos Rodriguez, formerly known as CIA Agent Christopher Franco Milano appeared on screen. The picture was a profile shot of him emerging from a car. He looked like he did ten years ago: smug grin, goatee neatly trimmed, expensive gray suit and watch—all items that he had apparently traded his loyalty for.

Haversham tuned in and out of Kennedy’s presentation as he wondered what the traitor looked like now. And what he’d look like behind bars.

“Apparently, he’d dealt with drug dealers while he was still an agent, and was discovered in 1997 by his partner, Jonathan Cho, who threatened to turn him in. I think that was a mistake; Cho should have reported him regardless of --” Kennedy was cut off.

“Personal thoughts, Kennedy,” Hampton censured.

“Ahem, well, unfortunately for Cho, Milano framed and eventually killed him. By the time we had found Cho’s confidential files regarding the drug dealing evidence, Milano had used his mafia connections to steal the U.S. Currency Printing Plates and flee.

It was around this time that our mafia spies began reporting the appearance of someone named Carlos Rodriguez, apparently a powerful man, with powerful allies, namely, Tae-sung Kim and Derek Le.”

_And he_ was _powerful,_ Haversham recalled. They had discovered over the ensuing year that Rodriguez was the biggest stock holder in the black market, suspected (and in some cases, charged) with nearly every underground trade renowned in mafia circles. It had been appalling news.

“In 2000, an Anon leaked Rodriguez’s whereabouts to the CIA, causing him to go into hiding temporarily. We believe he entrusted the plates to one of this partners. Whatever ended up happening within their group, whether Rodriguez betrayed them or vice versa, the trio split. T.S. and Derek spread word that they had severed all ties with Rodriguez.

Subsequently, Rodriguez retaliated, though the facts here are unclear. Much of the events were inner-mafia occurrences kept extremely private, as is typical for them. However, I figured out that it’s _because_ of the fact that they kept it all under wraps that we can deduce what most likely happened,” Kennedy sounded pleased.

When no one took his bait, he continued, “Rodriguez probably attacked, maimed, or killed Derek Le’s family member.”

“We’re not clapping,” Hampton stated, though he smirked appraisingly, “Keep going.”

Kennedy did not look put out in the slightest.

“Sure. Well, the two mafia partners then struck back, somehow managing to turn the majority of the international mafia powers against Rodriguez as well. They must have either had dirt on the guy, or relied on his status as a turncoat to spread lies.

Whatever they did worked, because Rodriguez dropped off our radar. Resources pulled their support, black market stocks disappeared—probably stolen—it was as if Rodriguez had been snuffed. CIA reports hesitated to say as much officially, without a body.”

Haversham frowned. That had not been a great summer. He had been a field agent then and, like most of the agents back then, enraged and frustrated. They had all worked overtime trying to zero in on the traitor and reclaim the plates, all to have it end up looking like the mafia had killed him anyway. Not a single whiff of the money plates had been found.

“His case went cold, then, and I was the first to pull out the dusty files and start putting together the pieces,” Kennedy spoke arrogantly. Haversham was getting the feeling that the boy liked hearing himself talk.

_A prodigy with obvious flaws…or, simply one that’s trying to impress me,_ Haversham summed up.

“In 2012, T.S.’s daughter Kayla Kim was killed by Rodriguez. His face was visually confirmed by one of our field agents, though there were reports of some signs of plastic surgery evident. If that’s so, it would explain why the CIA has had trouble pinpointing a camera sighting of our rogue. His location at this time remains unknown.”

Kennedy clicked once more and the screen turned black.

“Thank you, Agent Kennedy,” Hampton said.

“I can find this man, Director Haversham,” Kennedy blurted confidently, “I have a great track record, and -- ”

“Hold, Kennedy,” Hampton interrupted, “’The Director and I have already said that it will be observation tactics only at this point. We want to lure Rodriguez, not go barging into another country and handing him clear reason to stay away.”

“Agent Hampton, I think you are missing one vital piece of information,” Kennedy argued, clearly annoyed.

“What’s that?”

Kennedy clicked screen back on again, and navigated some on-screen folders, finally pulling up a set of gruesome pictures.

“What am I looking at, Agent?” Haversham demanded, eyes struggling to make out body outlines amongst the gore.

“Rodriguez has in his employ a man that is capable of…this,” Kennedy stated calmly, though he averted his eyes, and changed the pictures quickly, “No name or picture of the culprit yet. I sincerely believe that this is the work of Carlo’s right-hand man, and that he will most likely be the one investigating Gonzalez first. If we stay here in Langley, _waiting_ for reports, we’ll end up with reports of dead bodies.”

Agent Hampton sighed, clearly getting the point, though not happy with the manner in which it was given.

“I agree with you.”

All eyes turned to Haversham. He was well used to it, and leaned forward, taking a breath to gather his thoughts. “If this B.A.P. group is planning something big, and it certainly looks like it by the upward trend of activity, then we need to be close by.

I can make some calls and get your team on its way by tonight. I have a friend at the embassy that will ensure your arrival is kept on need-to-know basis only. You will spy on Gonzalez at the very least, apprehend him if you can. If the paperwork doesn’t go through in time, use the local PD. We have at least one informant that our undercover agent utilizes. Let’s hope there are others, because I can’t fly a whole S.W.A.T. out there that quickly.

We definitely need to question Gonzalez.” Haversham sighed mentally. _Why do I get the feeling the clock already started ticking too early?_

“If Carlos’ pet psychopath shows up, pull all our covert assets out of there, but until then let them function as ordered. Agents Hampton and Casey, you’re heading this case. I want a report in five hours about your location on the plane and your preliminary preparations. In twelve hours, I want a report on-site in San Juan.”

The room’s occupants began gathering their files, standing up.

“Oh, and take Agent Kennedy with you,” Haversham added.

Kennedy’s face lit up, though he conveyed it solely with the intensity in his eyes.

“Noah, are you sure?” Hampton asked.

“Yes.” His tone brokered no argument.

Hampton looked a bit put out, but Haversham knew that of everyone here, he could push his feelings aside and focus on the task at hand.

As Agent Casey opened the door, Haversham called, “Kennedy, stay a moment.”

Hampton shot him an inscrutable look, but ultimately shrugged and followed the other two out the door.

Kennedy shut the door, and turned to survey his boss.

Haversham noted that the young man did not fidget at all. He got points for that.

“Sir?” Kennedy prompted as Haversham continued to scrutinize him.

Finally, the Director got to his feet and rounded the table, coming to a stop an arm’s length away from the tall, platinum-haired agent.

“The board game called LIFE is an unrealistic toy for children,” Haversham intoned, voice firm, “Out there, don’t mistake what _we_ do as a game.”

Kennedy frowned. “If life isn’t a game, then why are there rules?” he replied, a hint of challenge in his tone.

Haversham scowled openly.

“Rules exist _because_ it isn’t a game. There is no reset button or save points, no way you can simply fold up the board and put away the dice and go back to sleep,” Haversham said, his words sharp, though his voice remained low.

Kennedy looked like he was paying attention now.

“I’ve looked at your case reports, Kennedy, and it is a tribute to your skills that you’ve captured each of those three fugitives without any major kinks in your plans. No innocent bloodshed. But this is a case magnitudes riskier than your previous ones. I’m counting on your track record to ensure that everyone makes it back. But you can only do that if you face the mafia completely prepared.”

Kennedy was quiet for a few seconds, meeting his eyes, then said, “You’re referring to the undercover agent.”

Haversham must have let his surprise show, because Kennedy went on.

“Your man must be in deep, to warrant that much danger if his cover is blown.”

Haversham sighed deeply, then moved around the other man to open the door again.

“Consider this your first truly serious assignment, Kennedy. Look out for yourself, and your team. You’re _beyond_ the point that you have to prove yourself. Make sure you act like it.” Haversham stepped outside the room.

“And for Pete’s sake, move your ID badge up to your shirt. It’s going to get stolen hanging at your waist.”

With those parting words, Haversham left, leaving Kennedy and his keen deductions behind.

He took a detour to the kitchenette as he headed back towards the command room, thinking resignedly, _I need a cup of coffee. A damn strong one._

 

()()()()()()()()

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we go. We've finally introduced all the angles for this story. Now it's simply a matter of bouncing between them in order to tell you the story. What did you all think of them so far? We'd love to hear your thoughts, if you please. See ya!


	10. Worried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam begins to receive hints about the sort of group with which she's become acquainted.

_Le Yacht, San Juan, Puerto Rico_

 

It had been a week since the Diego mission—though, of course, Dae-hyun vehemently denied the use of that name whenever it was mentioned—and things were progressing well for B.A.P.

Each warehouse location that the guys had gleaned from that night had been attacked during the past several nights, courtesy of Jong-up and Young-jae mostly. Young-jae loved causing havoc, and Jong-up bested nearly everyone in a fight, so they had been the point men. Yong-guk and Him-chan made the calls and intimidated the shit out of the common hoodlums. Kim had seen more than one of them cry. _They’ve gotten even better since I last saw them,_ she mused.

Dae-hyun had eventually forgiven the team’s teasing. Well, after he had pranked Young-jae with crickets in his bed, and switched out Zelo’s favorite music for German polka turned to maximum volume. Kim had been smart; she had bribed Dae-hyun with an extravagant filet mignon lunch delivered to the yacht the next day in exchange for a pardon. Dae-hyun had been happy to give it to her.

Since then, every night was filled with a club scam, warehouse raid, or exports disruption. Kim found the most satisfaction in the latter, given that Manuel’s main “exports” were women. Human trafficking had always disgusted Kim, which was why she had done so much for Sam.

Her father, she was pretty sure, shared her feelings on the matter, and so concentrated his billion dollar dealings in other areas, such as counterfeiting and illegal casinos. Plus, he had plenty of legitimate businesses as well, one of which, _Le Yacht_ , he had given to Kim.

_A business that I’ve been sorta ignoring since B.A.P.’s arrived,_ Kim thought with a yawn, _I need to get back into things._

It was just exhausting. Late nights coupled with disturbing nightmares had kept the numbers awfully low on her sleep tank, and Kim was beginning to wonder if another call to Dr. Park was in order.

Yong-guk confided to her last evening that Manuel was stepping up his security after the last raid, during which they had finally used the brass key to obtain a large cache of high-quality cocaine. Whatever grievances Manuel was accumulating towards B.A.P., he was starting to take them seriously.

There had been no word, though, of Carlos Rodriguez coming to his aid. Hence, Kim and Zelo had stayed up analyzing Manuel’s headquarters, a large two-story building settled on the outskirts of town, among the foothills. Their next operation’s goal entailed hitting Manuel so hard, his failure would be disastrous enough to require Carlos’ personal appearance.

_And then, we kill that bastard._ Gratifying images of Carlos meeting a grisly end flashed through Kim’s mind.

“Kim, are you all right?” Sam’s voice pierced Kim’s dark musings.

“Wha? Oh, I’m sorry, Sam. I didn’t mean to drift off there,” Kim apologized, yawning again.

“Late night?” Sam inquired as she placed the newly entered files into Kim’s file cabinets. She was wearing one of Kim’s loaned heels, and her hair was plaited down her back, accenting the crisscross backing of her dress.

“Yep,” Kim didn’t elaborate. She sipped on her hot tea instead.

Sam hesitated, about to leave Kim’s office, but suddenly asked, “Why haven’t they left yet? Yong-guk and the others, I mean. I noticed their yacht is still at the dock. They’ve been there for like a week.”

Kim knew the questions would come eventually, that Sam’s curiosity would potentially lead her to subjects she was better off not knowing. Yet try as she might, Kim could not invent any convincing explanations at the moment. Her head was beginning to pound.

“Eh, just let them do whatever they want. Who cares?” Kim replied, rubbing her eyes. The headache threatened to spill over her entire brain. “Look, I have to run a few errands. You okay with watching the desk on your own?” She continued as she shoved items in her purse.

Sam, who had gotten used to her boss’ comings and goings, said, “Sure, but how long will you be gone?”

“I’ll return before lunch. If anything happens, you know what to do,” Kim answered, brandishing her phone.

Sam nodded as Kim left.

Even though Kim made it seemed like she was out for errands most of the time, really she was actually running back home to catch a short nap. The nightmares somehow left her alone for that hour and half REM cycle.

A short drive later, and she was pulling herself out of the Aventador J. She locked the doors and climbed up the steps to her door. It was not a large abode, but it was secluded enough from her neighbors—a private section at the edge of the ex-pats area of the city. The previous owner had also valued privacy, and had planted numerous tall palm trees around the perimeter, pressed up close to the modern house’s wide windows.

On the ground floor, the walls’ white color offset the green of the outdoors and the chrome appliances of the kitchen. Everything was clean, but barren. Most of what she had brought with her to Puerto Rico was upstairs in her bedroom.

Kim rounded the circular staircase, and unlocked the bedroom door—caution, and the need for uninterrupted sleep had started that particular habit. Dropping her purse on the bedside table, she quickly pulled the blackout shades shut.

It was as if night were come again. Kim sighed thankfully and her headache dimmed.

“Ok...I’m gonna try to sleep now, so please, Mom and Andy, let me sleep in peace,” Kim chanted. It wasn’t something Dr. Park had medically prescribed, but Kim still thought it worked to some extent.

Closing her eyes, she tried not to think. About her mother, about Andrea, about Sam, or Yong-guk or Him-chan, or the rest of B.A.P. and their preparations for taking down Manuel. In a couple hours when her alarm would ring, Kim sincerely hoped that her brain had listened to her for once.

 

()()()()()()

 

_Two hours later_

 

Sam stapled a packet of papers and grumbled when the tool jammed yet again. _Ah, c’mon! I fixed you yesterday, you stupid thing!_ She complained to herself.

She yanked open the stapler, exposing the loading mechanism. Ah, that was why. It was nearly empty. There had been an influx of customers lately, though luckily for her, they were mostly post-rentals and those who needed payment plans. Nobody had required a tour from the boss.

Sam’s mind drifted to thoughts of Kim while her hands roved, seeking the box of refills.

Kim had been missing sleep; that much was quite clear. Sam was inclined to blame it on Kim’s friends, but for the fact that Kim seemed so relaxed with them. Those guys—all six of them—treated her like long-time pals would, and to four of them, Kim was their respected older sister, almost.

Kim fit well with them, maybe because she was already so blunt and quick to tease. Also, she was beautiful and chic. Those guys not only easily kept up with her personality, but also looked like freakin’ celebrities no matter what they were wearing.

Several days ago, they had all shown up together at _Le Yacht_ to take Kim to lunch. Sam could swear that the sun had been conspiring against her or something, because the six of them had stood arrayed in dazzling light when she turned to face them. It was like looking at a Korean boy band album cover. _Ridiculous!_ Sam had thought. _I’m totally losing it._

She had immediately spent the following half an hour moving her desk. No more sunlit entrances by gorgeous men threatening to send her into a stupor anymore.

The guys had watched her, mostly perplexed. Their leader Yong-guk, though, had smirked knowingly, and that self-absorbed Dae-hyun had started flirting again, attempting to get her to admit that his handsome visage had flustered her.

Well, he had almost succeeded, too, when Kim interrupted him. She had said something about a guy named Diego, though Sam had never met nor heard of that man before. The rest of them had, though, for they burst into laughter.

Sam thought she had heard Dae-hyun mutter something about revenge, but didn’t catch all of it.

Kim had then properly introduced them all to Sam. Then, with pleasantries done, the group had departed.

Sam didn’t know what conclusion to make of them all. Kim clearly trusted them, and Sam trusted Kim’s standards. She would never tolerate any bit of nonsense. There were something Sam was missing, however, and though the guys had never scared her directly, Hector’s continued warnings were starting to cause some doubts.

In fact, Hector asked her about the guys every evening she came home from work. He explained his worry for her safety repeatedly and said that should she feel endangered at any moment, that she should call him.

Sam had reassured him that they’d done nothing of the sort. At least, not yet, and that she’d be extra careful. She had also told Hector to lighten up and stop acting like a boring old dad, to which he had thrown a napkin at her.

Sam smiled at the memory. How could she tell Hector that she could take care of herself? _Because you can’t. You got kidnapped, remember?_ Sam scowled. Oh, right.

But she knew in the end, she just had to find out more about those guys. _Curiosity killed the cat, after all,_ she thought, _but satisfaction brought it back._

The door chimed at the same moment Sam finally found the staples.

“Aha!” she exclaimed.

 “Hey! Where’s Kim?” The energetic man Sam remembered as Young-jae asked, walking through the door.

“I don’t know, errands?” Sam answered cautiously. 

Young-jae hesitated, seeming to contemplate his options. His mouth tilted to one side, and he glanced back toward the door, once. He abruptly focused on Sam, smiling winningly. Sam frowned.

“We need to order some drinks,” the young man announced, nearing her desk and leaning one arm on it.

Sam pointed to their vending machine, raising her eyebrow, "Ok, we have a plethora of drinks right over there."

"I meant alcohol," Young-jae clarified.

"Well, I’m terribly sorry, but we don't sell alcohol here," Sam retorted, forcing more politeness into her tone in order to mask her annoyance.

"Then order us some," he insisted, still smiling. Sam bristled. _Like a bunch of princes they are!_

“I don’t think it’s within the scope of my job to order alcohol for the customers,” Sam replied as she tried to remember whether or not Kim _had_ mentioned anything about ordering special drinks on request.

“Well, Kim always does it for us.”

“She does?”

Young-jae nodded enthusiastically. Sam narrowed her eyes, but in the end, gave in. If he was lying…well, Kim would beat him up, probably.

“Okay, but it’ll be on your bill. Wait a second…I’ll try to find the closest liquor store,” Sam said, pulling up a search engine.

Young-jae leaned over her desk, positioning himself so he could see the computer screen as well.

Sam gave him a look, but he ignored it. She sighed. _Just get this over with,_ Sam thought

At one point, while Sam was scrolling through the locations—Young-jae talking on and on about which stores they tried before, what drinks were a rip off, and what tasted the best, yada-yada-yada—Sam thought she heard a door open and close. But it must have been another employee doing their own thing, because no one appeared or called for her. And Kim would’ve stormed in the moment she heard Young-jae’s voice, had it been her.

Sam shrugged, and dialed in the phone number. She explained who she worked for, then asked, “How many cases do you want?”

Young-jae jumped a bit, swiveling around from wherever he was looking. His face was still too close to her, and Sam could tell he was distracted…by something. “Oh...si-six.”

_Is he even old enough to drink alcohol yet_? she wondered. Well, she supposed he could be at least twenty-one…but this was Puerto Rico. Duh, the drinking age here was eighteen. Still, “Six…. Really?” she double-checked.

“Yea…no! Wait...just three.”

Sam eyed him suspiciously.

“I overestimated the number of girls coming,” Young-jae hurriedly explained. Sam rolled her eyes.

“Just three, please. Sorry about that. Yes. Please deliver it to _Le Yacht_. Our address is—oh, yes, that _Le Yacht_. I’m so glad you’ve heard of us. Feel free to stop by any time if you feel like using our business. Of course. Muchas gracias, Señor. We will pay for the delivery when it arrives. Right. Adiós!” Sam hung up.

Dae-hyun was standing there behind Young-jae.

He gave her a cheery wave.

Sam decided not to ask him about his sudden appearance, in case he starting messing with her again.

“Okay, well, they said the deliveries will be here in fifteen minutes or so,” Sam relayed. She paused and stared at them uncertainly. Both of them had identical looks of innocence pasted on their faces. Wide eyes, open expressions…Sam couldn’t bear the awkward silence.

"Are you guys even legal to drink?" she asked, suspicion in her voice.

The two exchanged glances, and burst out in scornful laughs. Unfortunately, Dae-hyun recovered first and leaned forward, crossing his elbows on the counter so that his face hovered inches from Sam’s face. She stubbornly held her ground.

"Why? Do we look young to you?" He teased, "Noona.'"

Sam blinked. "New...na?" Sam tried to sound it out.

"It's what "younger" males use to refer to an "older" female in Korean. A way of showing respect toward the… _older sisters_ in our country," Dae-hyun explained in a joking manner. Young-jae chuckled as well.

_Yea right. They have respect for me?_ Their actions didn’t say so. Sam figured they needed some teasing in return.

“Well, good to know that some kiddies still show a little manners for their elders nowadays.” Sam reached up and patted Dae-hyun's head patronizingly, “You're such a good boy. Noona's happy.”

Dae-hyun looked caught off guard for a moment by her comeback, but recovered with a pleased smirk. He pulled himself back, sitting beside Young-jae.

"So how old _are_ you?" Young-jae asked without preamble, “The way you patted Dae-hyun’s head, you might be around my mother's age.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed at the jibe, but only said, “If I am…you should refer to me as “aunty” instead of ‘big sister.’ Oh, and be _extra respectful,_ got it?” She made sure to turn back to her work dismissively, “In fact, a little groveling might go a long way.”

The two men kept silent. For a second, Sam feared she had gone too far with her cheek. They were too easy to banter with, but they were still part of a…well, gang? Group? Whatever it was, Sam had a feeling she would not want to get on their bad side.

She breathed out in relief when Dae-hyun broke the silence, “ _Aunty_ ,” he began appropriately, though he obviously didn’t mean it, “You're very interesting,” Dae-hyun observed, tone intrigued.

“I'm sure...” Sam retorted, projecting scorn.

At that moment Young-jae’s phone vibrated. He glanced at it, eyes scanning what must have been a text message, then tapped the counter, saying, “Well, thanks again. Bye!”

He shot Dae-hyun a meaningful look, and both of them stood up suddenly, moving towards the door.

“Thank you, _Aunty_!” Sam corrected, “Say it properly like Dae-hyun did. Oh, and it's gonna be $150 for the drinks!” She yelled at their backs.

The boys just ignored her, striding quickly away from _Le Yacht_ as if it were a crime scene.

()()()()()()

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Little_Red_Hood for the kudos and the reminder that I've been neglecting my AO3 account. I'm sure I've mentioned this before, but just to reiterate: This story is being simultaneously posted on asianfanfiction under zerogravity1986. We are the same people, just trying to get a wider audience and different reviews/perspectives from different demographics. 
> 
> So, feel free to leave a comment, short or long. We'd love you forever. Thanks for reading!
> 
> P.S. I'm playing catch up with the posting now, so you should be able to click next chapter for quite a while. :D Exciting!
> 
> AGAIN: WE DON'T OWN ANYTHING YOU RECOGNIZE. IF YOU SUE US, YOU GET A TWO-YEAR-OLD. --C.


	11. Perceiving the Hunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consequences of BAP's sabotaging comes a-calling at Le Yacht.

 

* * *

 

Dae-hyun smiled to himself.

“That Samantha is pretty fiery isn’t she?” he made it a statement.

“Probably got it from Noona,” Young-jae commented, referring to Kim. Dae-hyun nodded. He could imagine that happening, he supposed.

“Well, anyways, thanks for covering for me back there while I put that briefcase under Kim’s desk,” Dae-hyun said, as the two rounded the walkway that led to the office and headed towards the one that connected to the Trimaran.

The sun was high in the sky by now, a little after noon, and Dae-hyun could feel the sweat starting down his back. Luckily a breeze from the ocean caught his loose shirt, cooling him off.

Man, if they weren’t on the job at the moment, he’d be heading right for the beaches. _Girls, food, pretty good vacation spot all around,_ he mused.

“No problem. Wasn’t hard at all. I’m the distraction and deception expert, remember? Goes on my resume,” Young-jae bragged.

“You have a resume?” Dae-hyun rejoined.

“Well, no, but it would kick ass if it existed!” He smirked.

Dae-hyun shook his head, amused. Young-jae, it seemed, was competitive in paperwork as well as physicality. Not that this should surprise him.

“Do you think she suspected at all?”

“Sam? Nah,” Young-jae replied confidently. Dae-hyun scoffed at him. No wonder their enemies always wanted to punch him. His confidence alone could irk a person. Then again, women would probably say the same about Dae-hyun. Not at the beginning, of course, but when he inevitably had to break up with them, half the girls burst into tears and went on about why he shouldn’t leave. The other half got angry; some had even slapped him. Those weren’t fun.

Dae-hyun idly wondered which type of woman Sam would be if he…

“We should leave her alone,” Young-jae suddenly piped in.

Dae-hyun looked over at his fellow B.A.P member questioningly. “What? Why do you say that?”

Young-jae suddenly looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know…she’s not part of all this?” He looked uncertain, “It’d be bad if she got caught in the crossfire.”

Now Dae-hyun knew his eyebrows had risen, “You _care_ about her or something?” Between the two if them, Dae-hyun was usually the one to go after girls.

“No! No, c’mon man. I’m just trying to protect my hide, ok? She’s Kim’s friend. What happened to her last friend, Dae-hyun? Kim’d go crazy if Sam got hurt.” Young-jae nodded to himself, reaffirming his explanation.

“Hmm…she’s only known her, what did she say, three months? Do you think she’d be as bad as before?” Dae-hyun hadn’t been that close to Kim back then, but he did remember a doctor, and Kim missing some of their invitations for therapy sessions. The hyungs had seemed pretty grim around that time, too.

Young-jae shrugged. “Just ask Yong-guk or Him-chan. They’ll probably tell you the same thi--”

“Hey! There you two are. Turn around. We’ve got a ride to catch.” It was Him-chan and Jong-up striding towards them from the direction of the bobbing Trimaran.

“We’re not late,” Dae-hyun said, checking his phone.

“No, you’re not,” Him-chan conceded, “but there’s been a change of plans. Zelo found some news about the police that concerns our op for tomorrow. Yong-guk wants us all together to rework a few things as needed.”

They made no further protests and were soon ensconced in Dae-hyun’s car headed towards Zelo’s setup station. Turns out, it was on the top of a building downtown today.

Jong-up opened the door at the top of the staircase, revealing their leader and the curly-hair Zelo hunched over a couple monitors. Yong-guk turned at the sound and waved them over. Zelo slid his headphones off one ear.

“So, what’s the change, boss?” Young-jae spoke up, “I thought we’re attacking Manuel’s HQ tomorrow.”

He plopped himself down on the ground, cross-legged, arms stretched behind him for stability. Dae-hyun grabbed a chair instead so his clothes wouldn’t get dirty. Jong-up sat on his chosen chair backwards, resting his muscled arms on the seat back. Him-chan remained standing, hands in his pockets.

Dae-hyun knew that if anyone was watching them from another rooftop at the moment, they’d probably see them as a group of handsome young men, dressed for vacation. No threat at all. Nothing to pin them as T.S.’s go-to hit squad, unless one looked at their leader’s keen eyes, hard and focused as he discussed the mission.

“It appears the CIA has taken an interest in San Juan,” Yong-guk announced.

“What? Since when? I thought Manuel had the authorities under his thumb?” Young-jae protested.

“He does. Most of them answer to him, and let his cartel do as they like. Out of fear or greed, it’s not our concern. We didn’t have to fear their interference in our sabotaging missions,” Yong-guk explained.

“But,” Zelo jumped in, “I was rifling through the local police’s files today, trying to find out if they had any schematics of Manuel’s HQ, when I found a secured email by some officer named Jose to a U.S. government server. Naturally, I reversed the encryption to see what it said. It’s a crap system here. Easy peasy.”

He paused, typed a few keys, and the email appeared on screen.

“It mentions a CIA Director, though not by name. What caught me was this part here. It lists Manuel’s losses over the last week, which means they’ve noticed our ops, and may be anticipating our eventual attack on the headquarters,” he finished.

“So…are we not doing the mission then?” Jong-up looked confused.

“No, we still are, but we’re going to speed up the process. The original plan was to lay siege to Manuel’s place, build up the fear, thereby ensuring that Manuel goes crying to Carlos. However, with the CIA lying in wait, it needs to go faster. Get in, destroy, capture Manuel, get out. We can terrorize him plenty when he’s out from CIA eyes.” Hyung smirked at the thought.

“Any chance the CIA knows who’s been behind the attacks?” Him-chan inquired, his voice as calm as ever, though there was an undercurrent of worry that Dae-hyun sensed.

Yong-guk sensed it too, because he met Him-chan’s eyes. One of those silent messages passed between them, and Yong-guk replied, “Kim will be fine. There…had been a small mention of the Le’s in the email—since Derek has already been on their radar because of who he is—but I doubt they have any hard evidence of illicit activities in this city. Derek assures me _Le Yacht_ has been legitimately making enough money to be trusted by tourists and locals alike. It’s been providing rentals and sales for a year, after all, and is popular within celebrity circles. The CIA would be wary of laying false accusations too quickly on a business so popular with the public.”

Him-chan looked appeased, though not fully. Course, he’d always worry for Kim. So did Yong-guk, Dae-hyun was sure.

“So, fearless leader, you have a new plan?” Dae-hyun finally spoke up, “’Cause I really hope it doesn’t involve another Diego.”

Yong-guk mouth quirked for a moment, “What? You don’t want to call him up for a second date?”

Dae-hyun spluttered, “W-what? I ran out on the guy!”

Yong-guk pretended to contemplate his options, “Yea, I can see the plan now. You could be our inside man, let us in, and Manuel won’t know what’s hitting him until he’s hog-tied in our trunk.”

“Hyung! Don’t you dare,” Dae-hyun started.

“What exactly would you do, Dae-hyun? Put crickets in his bed?” At Dae-hyun’s surprise, Him-chan went on, “Yes, we knew what you did to Young-jae. But no worries, harmless prank.”

“Fuckin’ crickets,” Young-jae muttered from the ground, then lifted his head, “Not that I’m doing this to _save_ Dae-hyun or anything, but I’m volunteering to go in undercover.”

The B.A.P. members all turned to him.

“You do?” Jong-up asked in the same moment as both Dae-hyun and Zelo said, “Of course you do.”

“It’s my specialty, guys. I’ll pick a fight, get myself captured, and play possum until the time comes to tear them apart from the inside out,” Young-jae said, stretching his fingers lazily, “It’s my M.O. and those punks will lose like little puppies.”

“One of these days, I’m gonna have a brain surgeon look at your head to see what screw is loose up in there that makes you actually enjoy playing the beaten-up victim, Young-jae,” Yong-guk commented, shaking his head at their crazy comrade.

“Ah, well, you know me,” Young-jae grinned anticipatorily.

Dae-hyun sighed. They’d have to buy bandages again.

()()()()()()

It was forty minutes past twelve when Kim returned to the office, feeling slightly refreshed. There had been a vague sense of unease when she had awoken, but no lingering scenes of blood and death, for which she was thankful.

She had washed her face and changed her clothes, as well, shedding her business suit for a chiffon white blouse and pencil skirt. Sipping on an iced coffee, she pulled open the side door, and headed for the main lobby. Sam was sitting at the desk, hunched over some files, a highlighter in hand.

“I’m back,” Kim announced, “You good?”

Sam nodded absently.

Kim then noticed the stack of boxes sitting behind Sam’s chair. The logos denoted their alcoholic contents.

“What the hell is all that?” Kim inquired, drink halfway to her mouth.

“Oh, um, they’re not for me!” Sam explained in rush, “They’re…drinks for the guys?” Sam looked uncertain now, her eyebrows drawn together.

“The guys? Which guys?” Kim asked, though she definitely had a hunch now.

“Um…it was Young-jae. He and Dae-hyun told me you always order drinks for them…right?”

Kim stared back at Sam for a beat and gave a long sigh, setting down her drink and purse. Clearly Sam was afraid she had erred. “I _never_ do anything like that, especially for them! They tricked you, Sam.”

The other woman’s face fell, “Damn it. I’m sorry, Kim! If it helps, I made sure to charge their account.”

“Good. It’s not like they can’t afford it…and now that I think about it, technically none of them are underage now that they’re here,” Kim voiced.

“Oh, so they weren’t lying to me after all.”

Kim sighed.

“No, but Zelo would still be underage if they were in South Korea, where the drinking age is twenty. Course, they’ve all blatantly ignored legal drinking laws for a long time. Don’t feel too bad. They’re just used to getting someone else to order for them,” Kim explained, inspected the bottles.

She had to wonder though. Yong-guk would not have let the boys drink tonight, given their upcoming plans. Nor would they have tried; they knew better than to have a clouded mind going into an operation…which meant Young-jae must have been distracting Sam.

And Dae-hyun would have been doing something else. She turned back to Sam, her blouse shifting as she stood.

“So was that it? Did either of them have anything for me? Did anyone else come by after they left?” Kim made sure to keep her voice nonchalant as she headed back to her office.

“No, just customers,” Sam answered, nonplussed.

“Alright, well. I’ll be in my office if there’s anything you need,” Kim walked in, but stopped to add, “Call the delivery guys back and tell them to come pick up those cases. We have no use for them here. They need to deliver it straight to the yacht.”

Sam picked up the phone, but paused to yell from lobby, “Are you sure they’ll agree to that? I already signed for them and everything….”

“Yes,” Kim said sticking her head of wavy curls back out again, “If they give you trouble, transfer the call to me. I’ll put on my scary voice.” Kim grinned, and Sam’s eyebrows rose.

“Okay, Ms. Scary Boss,” she acquiesced.

Kim shouted a ‘thank you’ then closed her office door. _Now if I were Dae-hyun, where would I stash a secret delivery?_

()()()()()()

Business returned to normal, and Kim was sorting through some VIP client emails.

_Matthew MacConaughey, J-Lo…ooh, here’s one from Psy’s agent. I’m definitely replying to him._ Kim mused on the amount of press she’d get for booking him at _Le Yacht._ Fun times, perhaps. Unfortunately, there would be an influx of fans. She’d have to step up security services.

Her swinging foot bumped the briefcase under her desk again. It had not been hard to find it at all. Dae-hyun must have dashed in and practically tossed the thing into place before leaving to join Young-jae.

Kim was about to haul it into her lap again to recheck the contents when she heard the door chime, followed by gruff voices echoing from the main lobby. Pursing her lips, she switched over to the security cameras on her computer monitor.

Three large, buff men in tight tees had entered _Le Yacht_ , each with a surly tilt to his jaw. They parted for a slightly leaner man as he strolled up to Sam’s desk. Kim recognized him as Manuel’s higher-up that they’d bugged at _Sugar Drops._

She tensed, and turned up the volume slightly.

“Welcome to _Le Yacht_ , how may I be of service?” Sam was saying in her professional voice, though there was no smile on her face as she’d normally have.

“Well, yes. If you don’t mind, we’re looking for a guy,” the man stated, resting one hand on the desk lamp casually, “Is there a Yong-guk Bang here?”

Sam looked wary enough to say, “Um...why do you ask, sir?”

“Let’s just say he was a close _friend_ of ours.” He made the word sound completely like its antonym.

Sam apparently picked up on that, too, because she picked up some folders and tapped it on the desk briskly.

“I’m sorry. Friend or not, we are not allowed to disclose customer information,” Sam replied as she stood up, beginning to turn away.

The man grabbed the front of her dress roughly and yanked her forwards. Sam’s frightened yell squeaked in her throat when she caught sight of the 9mm he pulled from his pocket.

_Shit!_ Kim cursed. She scrambled for her desk key, opened the lowest file cabinet drawer, and shoved the briefcase inside, locking it closed.

Kim heard the man’s heightened voice, cruel enjoyment apparent in his tone.

“You know, I haven’t been to a shooting range for a while,” he mused, positioning the gun under Sam’s throat, admiring it, “This is a brand new gun, too. Wouldn’t mind testing it on you, compliments of Manuel Gonzalez. How does that sound, muñeco?”

Sam looked like she was going to cry.

()()()()()()


	12. Quitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samantha decides maybe getting out while the pan is hot would be fortuitous. Wouldn't it?

* * *

Kim glanced once more at the security screens, then stuffed the file cabinet key down her bra.

“Okay! Okay!” Sam was pleading, “Please, just let me look it up on the computer--”

Kim wrenched open her door, pulling every bit of her father’s cold, business-only demeanor into her stance.

“ _What_ is going on out here?” Kim stepped out of her office, glad for her high heels. She was able to meet the gunman’s eyes right at his level.

“Well lookie here!” One of the thugs exclaimed, eyeing her up and down.

Kim staunchly ignored him, focused on the aggressor. Manuel’s man smiled suddenly, lowering his gun to his side.

Sam wrenched herself backwards out of his grasp, breaths shallow. Her face was pale. The man smirked at her, briefly, but turned to face Kim.

_I need to get Sam out of here. She’s not trained to handle this._

Keeping her voice level, but cold, Kim said, “Run along now and get what I requested from Mr. Morillo. He’s behind on his reports and I’ll need to speak to him. Alone.”

Sam’s terrified gaze met hers, catching her hint. After a second of indecision—during which Kim tried to convey with her eyes that she’d be fine as long as Sam left—Sam nodded shakily, grabbed her phone, and fled.

“What do you want?” Kim asked directly, not mincing words.

She crossed her arms in front of her.

“Yong-guk Bang. We know he’s here,” the man said genially, holstering his gun. Kim watched his face carefully for any signs of recognition and found known. She was very glad she had been disguised whenever she helped B.A.P. this past week.

“Well, he was here. We rent yachts. He rented a yacht,” she stated the obvious.

“Which yacht?”

“I don’t know,” Kim lied, “There’s so many I can't remember which one he’s on. I have employees for that. Why don’t you and your…friends…do yourself a favor and go out there and search each one?”

She was going for the self-consumed kind of business woman that did only the minimum of what was required for her title. If she steered this conversation well, she could end up with a bonus outcome.

“What, you don’t number your yachts?”

“Oh, I’m sure I do, but that bastard tends to spray-paint over the original numbers with a different set. Kind of clever in my opinion,” Kim said, shrugging.

Mr. Higher-Up did not like that answer.

“I’m not here to play games with you. His dogs bit off five of our men’s heads last night and stole something from us. If you know where he is, you better tell me now or I’ll blow your fucking head off.” The gun was back now, leveled at her forehead.

 _Breathe!_ Kim thought, her iron will holding her body in its relaxed position. She forced a light tone.

“Nice gun! Is it new?” She smirked, receiving a death glare back. The three thugs took a step forwards. “Bien! Bien. Chill out, dude. I’ll look for you.”

Kim rifled through Sam’s desk drawers for a moment, grabbing a folder at random, “Here is it! His yacht number is 475,” she ‘read,’ “but don’t count on this being accurate because he might’ve changed it already.”

“Then how the hell can we find him?” The man was clearly frustrated.

“Well…I believe I can help you gentleman,” Kim offered sweetly, leaning on the side of Sam’s desk in order to stretch out her long legs. Thug #2 and #3 ogled them openly. Kim continued, “His name may be down for a rental period…but I could suddenly tell the police to confiscate the yacht…if the vessel had already been _bought_ by someone else.”

For a second, the man looked confused that Kim was willing aid them. But then he scowled, bringing up his gun again, “No way I’m paying for a stupid boat when I simply _make_ you give it to me,” he growled.

“But what am I ever going to get out of all this otherwise?” Kim pouted.

“You get out of this _alive_!” The thugs moved to surround her, and Kim straightened. Her blood was racing now as she thought fast.

“Fine! Just fuckin’ shoot me right now and go find Yong-guk on your own,” Kim retorted stubbornly, “That is, if you can, with my _father_ coming after you asses.”

Kim could see the exact moment Mr. Hi-I’ve-Got-A-Gun understood her meaning. He paled. Blinked twice. A glance to her sides revealed similar hesitation on the thugs’ faces.

“Have we got a deal?” Kim inquired. _If they don’t agree, I’m going to have to fight back,_ Kim thought, as she readied herself to make a grab for the gun. She could break the man’s arm if she aimed for the elbow the way Yong-guk once showed her, and then shoot at least two of the thugs. The third would require a sharp kick to the balls, which would probably ruin the polish on her Jimmy Choo’s. _Damn these fucking losers and their—_

“Fine,” the gunman agreed.

The gun was abruptly gone, and its wielder signaled for Thug #1 to go outside to retrieve something from their car. After the hulky man left, Manuel’s higher-up appraised Kim less aggressively.

“You know we really don’t want any trouble here...with you, and definitely with… _Derek Le_. So how about you sell us the yacht that bastard is on?” The guy said, as if Kim didn’t just offer him that exact idea.

She inhaled deeply, forcing her muscles to relax, “I do appreciate any extra…gun-less business,” she replied, “Granted you have enough to cover the cost, of course.”

The thug returned then, carrying a briefcase. He set it on the desk. _My, my. I guess I’m collecting briefcases today._

The same hired hand opened it and spun it around at the same time that Mr. Higher-Up stated, “I hope ten rocks is enough for you?”

 _Ten mil?? He was just driving around with that? What the hell for?_ Kim’s thoughts popped up in rapid fire, _But do I care to find out? No, I don’t._

“Sold!” Kim agreed with a wild smile, slamming the lid closed and hefting it with one hand. “It’s that one over there,” she pointed toward the shiny Sunreef 210 Trimaran, “Oh! And it looks like he’s leaving. You’d better hurry and catch him for taking your yacht!”

Manuel’s four men made a quick exit and Kim could hear their yells echoing down the dock.

She walked back to her office, locked the door, placed the case on the table, and let her body drop heavily into her chair.

Seven deep, long breaths later, and the adrenaline had finally started to ebb.

She needed to text Yong-guk and Him-chan. And probably her father, too, to thank him for teaching her to deal with these situations.

However, first, she really needed to call Sam back to the office and discuss things. Her poor friend was probably regretting what the hell she had gotten herself into.

* * *

 

Sam was regretting what she had gotten herself into.

What had happened earlier was just too much to process. This was the second encounter she had with Gonzalez’s gang members, and this time there had been a freaking _gun_ ready to blow her head off!

It had been a year, but the memories of her abduction had slammed back into the forefront once things had escalated back in _Le Yacht._

 _Shove it away, Sam! Don’t think about it!_ Sam thought desperately, shaking her head back and forth. Unfortunately, with her heart already beating fast, the motion only made her dizzier.

Arms grabbing her—hands tied—bright light—running, running—so scared, so very scared—jumping—swimming—

Sam started, almost dropping her phone when a text alert sounded. It was from Kim.

It’s OK now. They’re gone.

Sam breathed. She was relieved Kim was all right. When her boss had ordered her out of _Le Yacht,_ she had complied, but upon reaching the shore, the feeling of cowardice had swept over her, halting her steps.

In the end she had not gone to see Mr. Morillo at all, but had paced, fretting all the while. The lack of gunshots had kept her terror at bay, until she had seen one of the thugs leaving and heading towards her.

She had thrown herself behind a tree and covered her mouth for fear of being heard. The man must have been in a hurry, because he’d grabbed a briefcase and returned to the office with haste. A few minutes passed before the four of them, including the man with the gun, came crashing out of the building, yelling towards the end of the docks.

Sam had slumped in her hideout, uncaring of the tree bark scratching her skin. She had dropped her heads into her hands, trying to think. That was when the images had returned.

Now, Sam stood, trying to force the uncertainty from her mind. _What in the world did Kim do to get rid of them?_ Sam wondered. _Shit, did she know them?_ They had clearly known Yong-guk, and whatever he (and probably all the guys) had done to Gonzalez—it was definitely very bad.

The kind of bad a girl like Sam should be _not_ sticking her curious head into.

_Well, looks like curiosity did kill the cat…and it isn’t coming back._

Sam walked like a body without a soul back to the office building. She opened the front door slowly, noticing the oily handprints the men had left on the glass. She’d have to clean those soon.

“Sam!” Kim, having heard the door chime, wrenched open her office door. Her hair flew outwards as she rushed forward, gripping Sam in a tight hug.

“I’m…I’m okay, I think,” Sam replied, returning the embrace. As she opened her eyes, she peered over Kim’s shoulder, spotting an open briefcase on her boss’ desk.

It was full of money.

Several stacks of bills sat beside the case, clearly being counted.

“Where’d you get all that money from?” Sam asked, awed.

If Kim detected any unease in that question, she did not comment on it. “Oh, I just sold a yacht.”

Kim reclaimed her seat, grabbed a handful of hundred dollar bills and resumed counting. Sam plopped herself into the chair facing the desk uncertainly. Her mind was awhirl. _Up-front cash?_ Sam knew Kim sometimes sold her yachts; that much was not new. Most customers opted to rent, but according to the fiscal report—which Sam had had to peruse in order to reorganize _Le Yacht’s_ budget a month ago—sales were rare, and reserved for certain summer seasons. The fact that Kim made sale now, and to Manuel Gonzalez’s murder-hungry men made Sam tense.

 _Do I really want to be involved in this…whatever it is? Kim’s in on it. Her friends are all in on it, too._ Sam couldn’t deny now that something illegal was definitely happening.

There was a lull as Kim finished counting, then a click of the briefcase closure, “Are you okay?” Kim inquired. Her eyes were focused on Sam.

“Yeah.” _But really,_ “No…” Sam sighed, exhaling loudly. She didn’t really want to do this, but what had occurred this morning was a clear omen. If Hector were here, he’d definitely be yelling in her ear. It was time to listen to him. “I’m thinking about quitting...” she began.

Kim raised her eyebrows. Surprise flitted across her face, but was quickly replaced by a thoughtful look.

“Okay,” she said decisively, after a moment.

Sam’s eyebrows mimicked her young boss’ expression, “R-really? You'd let me go just like that? Don’t I still have to put in two weeks’ notice?”

Kim waved her hand dismissively, “I’ll just pay you for those two weeks.” Well, it wasn’t like Kim couldn’t afford to, considering what was sitting on her desk. _Still…_

“Are you sure?” While Sam’s fear drove her, she couldn’t help but feel a bit hurt by Kim’s quick decision, “If I quit then you're gonna have to handle everything by yourself again.”

“It’s cool. Don’t worry, okay?” Kim smiled reassuringly, “Let’s make today your last day. Don’t come in tomorrow morning. I’m thinking of taking a long weekend off anyway. I’ll keep the shop closed for tomorrow, Saturday, and Sunday,” she explained, swinging the case of money off and under her desk. It banged against something else under there, and Kim winced, “Ouch, my foot.”

Sam still hesitated, biting her lip, “You don’t want to know why?”

Kim’s smile dissolved, and her voice softened, “You don't want to work anymore cause it's obviously dangerous here,” Kim stated, “Sam, I understand.”

“But…”

“No, really. It’s fine. Just…” Kim seemed to be struggling to clear her throat. She opened her mouth to say something, then paused, as if changing her mind, “Just expect your last paycheck in two weeks. I’ll leave it with one of the girls in the back.”

“Oh…okay,” Sam wavered between disappointment and relief. “I guess that’s it huh? Will I still see you around?”

“Um... sure. I’ll just call you.”

For the remainder of the day, Sam resumed her station at the main desk. Her hands were simply going through the motions, though, and a part of her wondered if she could take the decision back. But then the flashbacks would return and reaffirm her choice.

It had been good while it lasted.

That night, Kim dropped Sam off at her place. They said goodbye through the windows and Kim smiled before driving off. _And that’s that, I guess,_ Sam thought.

It was only once Sam entered her room that she realized, _Oh crap! I left my ribbon heart in the desk!_

Sam mentally kicked herself and was about to turn around and walk toward the pier again. The dark of night greeted Sam at the door and she halted. Going all the way back to _Le Yacht_ right then would probably not be a smart idea. Her day today had given her an extra dose of paranoia, and the fact that Hector wasn’t home yet either made her jumpy.

He had left a note on the table about working the late shift, which would end in two hours. Sam should probably be here when he returned.

She closed the door, and leaned against it. Reaching into her purse, her fingers found the office key she still kept. Kim said she’d close it down, but Sam wouldn’t be long.

_I’ll just go back for the ribbon tomorrow._

* * *

 

The next morning dawned clear, and as Sam arrived at _Le Yacht’s_ front door, she noticed two things immediately. One, the door was wide open. Two, a couple of large, unidentified men were already inside. She did not recognize them as _Le Yacht_ employees.

“Um...Excuse me gentlemen, but we are closed today.” Sam walked in cautiously, trying to speak calmly like a member of staff would. Technically, she wasn’t one anymore, but they didn’t need to know that. Hopefully her casual attire—linen shorts with a cardigan over her camisole—didn’t detract from her goal.

The two men had turned at the sound of her voice, and the violent expressions that leapt to their faces froze Sam’s advance. One of them shoved a chair out of his way as he started towards her. It went crashing into the vending machine, cracking the plastic. The other man shouted, spittle flying, “Where the _fuck_ is she?”

His partner grabbed Sam’s upper arm, his expansive left hand going all the way around the limb, and shook her.

Shaken—literally—Sam tried to make sense of what was happening but was suddenly wrenched hard sideways. Her shoulder slammed into the vending machine, which buckled further, its plastic panel bending inward.

"WHERE IS SHE?" the man bellowed into Sam's face.

The man had not lessened his grip on her arm, and Sam could feel the bruise already forming. She felt her hand going numb from the blockage of blood. “I-I…Who? Who are you guys looking for?” Sam struggled to ask.

“Who else!? That _bitch_ of the boss of yours: Kim!” The man yelled back.

“I-I don’t know!” Sam cried, “I don’t know where she is.”

“The bitch fucking ran,” The other guy concluded. Displeased, her captor growled and struck the keypad with his clenched right fist. Sam turned her head away, eyes shut, as the circuitry sparked, ruined.

“Where. Did. She. Run off to!?” The thug roared deafeningly, "WHERE DID SHE GO???"

“Please,” Sam begged, the tears in her eyes falling now, “I don’t know... I don’t know anything...Please!”

“Shut up!” the man replied.

His partner cursed. “What the fuck are we supposed to do now? Manuel's definitely not gonna like this. They obviously planned this whole thing out. We’ve been set up!”

“We can’t just fucking stand here and watch them get away with our shit!” Abruptly, the hand opened, dropping Sam to the floor. She let herself sprawl there, hoping they’d forget her.

No luck.

“What are we gonna do with this one? Kill her?” The man who had grabbed her asked, frustration fueling his rage. Sam’s terror spiked at the suggestion.

“Nah, let’s take her with us. Let’s see if we can use her and the other kid to lure out the rest of them,” the second thug replied. _What other kid?_

His companion apparently thought this was a good idea, too, because he nodded, and they turned towards Sam at the same time. Sam flailed in alarm, trying to get her legs under her so she could stand up and run.

However, the first man was already close. He grabbed her bruise arm, making her yelp in pain, and yanked her upwards. Desperate, she struck out with her left hand, trying to claw at his eyes. Her nails grazed his cheek as he jerked back.

“Fuck!” he scowled.

The man responded with a vicious backhand, and white spots burst upon Sam’s vision as she fell to her knees. Fresh tears welled in each eye, this time from pain. Her right cheek was on fire! The thug had not held back.

“That bitch’s not gonna come quietly. Did you bring the chloroform?”

“Yea, yea.”

A cloth was suddenly pressed to Sam’s face. No matter how hard she shook her head, or tried feebly to knock the man’s arms away, the hands wouldn’t budge.

Her vision blurred, and she suddenly felt like she was floating, her limbs going limp.

  
As one of the men picked her up from the floor, Sam’s last thought was, _what_ _other kid were they talking about?_

  
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()


	13. A Kink in the Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BAP is alarmed to learn that Samantha's been kidnapped. How will they adjust for her presence while maintaining their mission objectives?

* * *

“Hey! Hey! Wake up!”

Sam opened her eyes slowly, her body waking at the same speed. The sensation in her feet and hands finally enabled her to roll to the side. She inhaled, only to start coughing immediately. Dust swirled around her, set into motion by her breaths.

It was dim. The only light shone from a weak bulb screwed in the ceiling.

Looking out from under her long hair, she glimpsed boxes stacked on top of one another, a stained, wooden floor, an old TV next to some beer bottles, no windows, one door, and metal columns. Columns that were bars. She was caged. Just like last time.

Panic spiked through her, chasing the last remnants of grogginess away.

_Not again! Not again! They’re gonna kill me! I ran away, and now they found me, and-and—_

“Hey! Over here!” A tense voice hissed at her through the gloom.

Sam wrestled control over herself, gulping air. _Stop panicking! Get up instead!_ Sam repeated the inner mantra until she could feed strength into her arms.

Shaking, she levered herself into a sitting position, turning her gaze to seek the voice that had spoken. There. Beyond the bars was the form of a male body, wider shoulders than waist. The unidentified man was tied to a chair, though, a few feet away. _“The other kid,”_ she recalled.

Before she could ask his name, the young man spoke, “What are you doing here, _Aunty_?” It was that guy Young-jae!

“Young-jae! Why are _you_ here?” Sam snapped back. Scared though she was, there was a part of her half-annoyed that of all people trapped here with her, it was the kid that so rudely conned her into buying him alcohol.

“I asked you first, Aunty,” came the reply.

“What does it look like? I got kidnapped by those thugs, obviously!” Sam hissed back. It was either get angry or go back to being terrified at this point.

“How did you run into them?” Young-jae whispered, shifting his feet as best he could. He must have been very uncomfortable. Sam was thankful that she was not tied up this time, at least.

Sam quickly summarized what brought her to _Le Yacht_ that morning and how she ended up being caught.

“I’m sorry, Samantha,” Young-jae said, once she was done speaking, “You weren’t supposed to be part of this,” he sighed, “It’s probably my duty to get you out of here, then.”

“’This?’ What do you mean by ‘this’? Are you telling me that you meant be--”

The door suddenly slammed open. Boxes rattled, but did not fall.

One of the thugs from earlier—the brute who had hit her, Sam remembered—sauntered in with a length of pipe in one hand. He clanged it on Sam’s cell, sneering, “Did you have a nice sleep?” Not waiting for an answer, he jabbed a cell phone through the bars with a gruff, “Call her! Tell Kim Le to come rescue you.”

Sam stared at the man, wide-eyed, as she slowly backed away.

“No? You don’t want to be rescued?”

“Leave her the fuck alone!” Young-jae spoke up.

“Shut yer hole!” The man strode across the floor to Young-jae and smacked him on the head. The younger man winced, as if he had been hit on the head one too many times already. “You should feel lucky that we haven’t killed you yet.”

“Heh... you're gonna regret not doing so,” Young-jae warning mockingly.

“Am I?” The man’s sneer twisted into a deadly grin, and he cracked his knuckles, the metal pipe glinting in the darkness.

Sam’s terror returned in full, and she curled up into a corner, trying to create distance between her and the scene playing out, but her eyes could not look away.

* * *

 

_Safehouse, San Juan, Puerto Rico_

Zooming down the highway, Kim’s thoughts turned to her friend. She had been sad to let her go yesterday, but knew that in the long run, Sam would be safer far away from the Le’s, and from B.A.P. Kim had wanted to hug her, seeing Sam standing there on the curb when Kim dropped her off. But she had to make it a clean break. Plus, if she decided later to check up on Sam—maybe ensure she had what she needed to get home—she could always deliver her final paycheck in person.

After they nabbed Manuel, that is. The operation was priority today, not talking to Sam. That’d come later. Kim pushed it from her mind.

Making the last turn, she finally arrived at a vacation house tucked away in a secluded copse of trees. The location was about an hour’s drive from _Le Yacht_ and San Juan, and half an hour from the nearest city, Carolina. It skirted the edge of El Yunque National Forest and only one (official) road led up to its driveway.

The dwelling was one of her father’s condos and functioned as a safe house for the Le’s should they require it. In the past year, she had avoided it, since it was out of her way and she had her home in the city anyway. She was sure, however, that her father had made regular trips, installing security measures and whatnot.

Kim entered to find Yong-guk, Jong-up, Zelo and Derek already waiting for her. Young-jae was probably somewhere doing chin-ups with Dae-hyun. Him-chan was doing errands. He had texted her as much.

She gave a dad a wave, but strolled past him and up to the sofa where Yong-guk sat instead. She heaved Dae-hyun’s delivered briefcase onto the table next to him. It thumped in a satisfying way.

“Thanks, Kim,” Yong-guk acknowledged with a grin. Kim did not return it.

“Why the hell do you need all this coke for?” Kim inquired curtly.

“Don’t worry about it. We took it from Manuel to make a bit of profit. Who knew that key you stole opened a whole case of high quality coke?” Yong-guk deflected easily, but then eyed her, “Did you use some?”

“The fuck I did! Don’t lump me on the same level as you,” Kim protested, “Ayo! Where’s my birthday gift by the way?”

Yong-guk’s grin fell. “Birthday...shit. It slipped my mind.” Then he shrugged, his black blazer shifting on his frame. “I’ll get you something later.”

“Bleh! I don't need ‘nuttin’ from you!" Kim denied, enjoying the banter. She leaned close to his ear, using a stage-whisper, "What are you planning on giving me? Anything but a car, please. I have a warehouse full of them. I'm thinking about open up a dealership to get rid of a few.”

"You can just give us some, Noona," Jong-up joked. Kim glanced at the young man. Jong-up always looked the most…open. It was the only way Kim could describe it. Yong-guk had many masks he utilized as leader of B.A.P. and Him-chan followed, favoring that insufferable calm façade. Dae-hyun used his multiple flirty faces almost instinctively, both in work and in play. Zelo could break out the image of an ignorant teenager pretty convincingly, and Young-jae’s acting gift was a given.

Jong-up, in this case, was a breath of fresh air. When he smiled, he always meant it, and Kim couldn’t ever quite get as annoyed with him as all the others. _Even so…_

"I could let you rent one, Jong-up. How’s about ten grand US for the Bugatti?"

“Just ten grand? Dang! For a Bugatti that's really cheap," Jong-up replied, excited.

“I'm giving you a discount since we're close. Take it or leave it!"

“You’re unbelievable,” Yong-guk muttered. Kim circled back to him.

“Of course. Now, where did you anchor my yacht after you left yesterday?” Kim changed the subject.

Yong-guk scoffed, “It ain’t your yacht any more. You sold it for ten mil, remember? Which means you don’t need ten grand, by the way, so you can just give that Bugatti to Jong-up for free, right?”

Kim remained silent. The business woman in her was glaring at Yong-guk.

She turned to her father, instead, “So Dad! Why are you here? Didn’t you tell me you were going out for ‘business’?”

“I did, but things got a little tangled up here so I decided to stay back a few days. You and B.A.P. are running an important operation, in any case, and I can be available if needed,” Derek replied as Kim settled in. She fixed her hair in a hanging mirror, toed off her heels, then poured herself a cup of tea.

“You closed the shop as I instructed right?” Yong-guk asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Your instructions were _very_ clear in the letter.” Kim held up the thick piece of paper that had been attached to the briefcase. Yong-guk smiled with satisfaction.

“Good. Let’s check-in, then.” He touched a finger to his ear piece, switching on the small microphone that curved around his ear and along his jaw. Zelo caught sight of the motion, and routed the input from Yong-guk’s communication equipment to the computer speakers.

“Yo! What’s happening, Young-jae?” Yong-guk greeted. _Oh, so he must already be in position,_ Kim realized as she took another sip, relaxed.

“I’m recovering, Hyung. These guys are real bastards.” There was a sound like someone spitting. _Where the hell is he?_ “Anyway, not important. You should know something. There’s an _extra_ package,” Young-jae informed.

His tone set Kim on guard. Young-jae treated everything like a challenge. He rarely sounded so serious, even in the midst of a mission, getting beat up on purpose or not. Dread crawled up her spine.

“Extra package?” Yong-guk repeated.

“Sam’s here. The big guys brought her in. Apparently they picked her up when they went to _Le Yacht_ looking for Kim.”

The dread morphed into fear, and the feeling was so similar to when Rodriguez took Andy, that Kim instantly started feeling nauseated. “Oh my god! I told her not to come to the shop today!”

“It’s alright, Kim,” Yong-guk stated quickly, “Young-jae, go on and escape early.”

“Now?” came Young-jae’s query.

“Yes, as soon as possible. Take her with you and we’ll come pick you up.”

“You got it boss. Switch me to standby, Zelo.” Zelo complied.

Kim spoke up after a second’s contemplation, “Young-jae's there?” Kim was surprised; that had not been the original plan.

“Yes,” Yong-guk answered, standing up and straightening his clothes. Peering at her face, he added, “He’ll take good care of her, Kim.”

Seeing him gather his things, Kim stood as well, tea forgotten. “But I should come with you and see to Sam. She’ll be traumatized!”

“No, Kim, we can handle it. Stay here and act according to plan. Zelo will stay, too, don’t forget. He knows how to reach me, whatever happens.” He strode to the front door, Jong-up getting up to follow.

Kim sighed, reigning in her worry. He was right. And Young-jae would get Sam out of there. B.A.P. was top of the class at what they do. “Just keep me updated, Yong-guk.”

Her friend nodded over his shoulder, his dyed hair glowing in the sunset light. His right hand made a half-wave as he walked up to a black van that had pulled up to the safe house. The door slid open, revealing Dae-hyun already inside. If Kim leaned to see around a tree branch, she could see Him-chan in the driver’s seat.

She went back inside, intent on grabbing her own ear piece.

* * *

 

Night descended into Sam and Young-jae’s jail feeling colder than usual. There were no windows to confirm the time, but the temperature itself gave it away. Sam did not move from her curled position in the corner of her cell.

Once again, she glanced over at Young-jae. He seemed to be doing well. The thug had smacked him only a few times, and lightly at that, obviously aggravating previous wounds. He had left after five minutes, but to Sam, those minutes were five too many. She had watched Young-jae bear each blow gamely, and her sympathy had grown, along with her respect for him.

Young-jae was certainly tough.

But also really strange, because he had been mumbling to himself off and on, ever since the thug had left. _What a weirdo,_ she thought. She leaned forward out of her curled posture for a moment, trying to see his face.

“Man! Qué noche aburrida! No one pick up phones,” an accented voice boomed from beyond the locked door. Footsteps approached. Sam could see the shadows shifting in the door crack, as she jerked backwards into her corner again.

The door slammed open once more and this time five men strode forwards, all wearing the same kind of grungy shirts and faded jeans. “They don’t care about you!” One of the men jibed. He caught sight of Sam then and leered at her.

She grimaced, but kept silent.

As they all settled down, some in chairs, some on the floor, the guys passed around a case of beers. Many pulled out cigarettes as they conversed rapidly in their language. Raucous laughter soon erupted as they watched random Spanish shows on the television set.

“ _Vaya, estoy aburrido_!” One of the men exclaimed not ten minutes later.

" _Vamos a ir a la taberna_ ," another suggested.

" _Pero yo no tengo ganas de ir a la taberna._ ”

“Then just fuckin’ call some _putas_ over and have fun right here.”

“Are you a fuckin’ _bobo_? We’re fuckin’ broke! That _cabrón_ Yong-guk took our money two nights ago, and our drugs. We can’t afford no _putas_.”

One of the men glanced at Sam then, “Oi, we have a lost _gatito_ over there. Why not just have fun with her instead? She’s free.”

Sam jerked her head up at the suggestion, her heart thudding. With murmurs of assent and licentious grins, the men walked over and open her cell. Sam’s eyes flitted from one man to another, looking for any hint of mercy. None seemed sympathetic. One of them licked his lips in anticipation.

“NO!! Get _away_ from me!!!” Sam yelled hysterically, flinging her arms out. She shot a glance towards Young-jae’s side of the room. His head was up, staring in her direction, but unfocused, like he was thinking of something else. _What the hell?! Someone help me!_ Sam thought.

The man closest to her reached down and yanked her up forcefully. She struggled, but his grip was like iron. He twisted both her arms behind her back, as another grabbed ahold of her jaw and tilting her head back, squeezing painfully.

Sam cried out in response and someone took the opportunity to shove a few pills down her throat, past her tongue, their fat fingers tasting vile in her mouth. They held her jaw shut as she swallowed the pills involuntarily, nearly choking.

They were laughing and jeering.

Some yelled, “Inicio de la puta!”

The man who held her arms let go for a moment, and Sam immediately tried to thrust her fingers down her own mouth in order to get herself to vomit. It was the only thing she could think of to do at this point.

But another man grabbed her hand, wrenching it hard. Sam shrieked, falling to her knees, “NO! NO! PLEASE DON’T!! SOMEONE HELP ME!!!”

Hands—too many hands—pinned her down on the hard floor and started tearing at her clothes. Her cardigan tore down both seams, and as a hand landed on her breast, Sam was about to--

_Bam!_

One of the men fell over dead on top of Sam. The other thugs barely had time to react to the nasty surprise before more shots rang out. Once, twice, thrice more. Four of the men were down now, frozen expressions of shock and pain on their faces. One guy had apparently been able to pull his gun, but he lying dead as well, not having fired back at all.

“WHAT THE FUCK?? How did you break loose!?” the last man exclaimed, disbelief clear in his voice as he glared at the once-tied-up figure looming before him.

“Magic...” Young-jae replied and shot him.

()()()()()()()()()


	14. Back to Plan A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get Sam out and take down Gonzalez's base of operations. Let the fun begin. Serious BAP kickin' ass here.

* * *

Sam was breathing harshly, the air barely reaching her lungs before she exhaled again. Distantly she noted that she could be hyperventilating, which could explain why she was feeling so dizzy all of a sudden.

Bodies lay bleeding around and on top of her. Every one of them were head shots.

Everything had happened in seconds, and Young-jae had not wasted any bullets. Sam looked up at his face, and though it was grim, the eyes were clear with righteous anger. He shoved the stolen gun in his waistband and began picking through the downed thugs’ clothing for more weapons and ammunition.

Finally, he turned and found a thin muslin blanket which he draped around Sam. The remains of her cardigan fell off her shoulders, tattered.

“You okay, Aunty?”

Sam nodded, and whispered in a tiny voice, “Thank you.”

Young-jae accepted the gratitude with a small smile that disappeared just as quickly, “Can you walk?” he inquired, “Cause we need to move out now!”

He pulled Sam to her feet in one motion and started towards the one dingy door. Sam forced her legs to move, though they felt like sluggish logs under her control. She tried to pay attention to the direction Young-jae was going, but in the end, he just grabbed her wrist to physically lead her through a back door.

The alleyway was not much improvement on their previous lodgings. Dirt was here aplenty, too, as well as wet grime. To Sam’s dismay, Young-jae stopped at a sewer man hole. Young-jae pulled up the circular disc, the metal scraping sound echoing down the alleyway. Sam shifted nervously.

Young-jae lowered himself smoothly through the opening, as if he did it every day. It certainly fit her ongoing theory that B.A.P. was a gang of thieves—deadly thieves now—as she recalled the gunshots.

The younger man beckoned to her from below. Ultimately, it was either stay here and try to stumble home on her own, or trust a deadly gunman who called her “Aunty.”

Sam climbed down into the sewer.

She landed unevenly, but Young-jae steadied her. Sam was suddenly very aware of his hands on her arms. Before she could ponder it further, he let her go and pulled out a penlight, motioning for her to follow him again.

To her surprise, they only traversed about ten feet down the actual sewer pipe before Young-jae veered to right and into a hidden underground tunnel. The walls were straight here, instead of curved, and the floor was dry—though not very much better odor-wise.

“Dae-hyun,” Young-jae voiced out of the blue. Sam twirled around, thinking Dae-hyun was in the tunnel with them. Her head definitely did not like that movement, because the dizziness returned twofold and Sam had to lean against the wall for a second to get the room to stop tilting.

“We’re down in the tunnel,” Young-jae continued, standing in front of her. “Which passage should we take?” Sam saw that ahead, there was a T-bend. She glanced at Young-jae, trying to focus. Finally, her vision cleared, and she saw he had a hand pressed to one ear, and hidden behind his earring was a tiny wire—a microphone. He was talking with Dae-hyun, and probably the rest of Yong-guk’s group, through a radio comm.

Sam took a step forwards, cautious. She was still feeling rather off-balanced, though not dizzy or short of breath anymore. Instead, she felt warm.

“Okay, so the one to the right? Got it. Be there in a few minutes.” Young-jae stepped towards Sam, grabbing her forearm again, and taking the lead. Together, they ran down the narrow right-hand tunnel. Sam didn’t even bother keeping track of their path. Her every sense seemed drawn inexonerably to the contact of Young-jae’s hand with her arm.

She stared at it in the dim light, and abruptly stumbled. Young-jae was pulled to halt.

“Wait...wait. Can we rest for a while?” Sam asked, between deep breaths.

Young-jae shook his head, “We have no time. Let’s get there before they find out we’ve escaped. C’mon we’re almost there,” Young-jae harried.

Sam girt her teeth, wrenching her arm away. She just couldn’t _think_! She leaned on the wall, sinking slowing to sit on her heels, reveling in the coolness of the concrete, regardless of the dirt she was sure covered its surface. Sam curled up her legs, looping her arms tightly over her knees. She just had to regain her equilibrium.

Young-jae sighed, then he walked over, crouching down in front of her, his tone one of comfort.

“Just try to hold on.” He reached out and touched her hands.

The heat flashed through her like lightning. Sam latched onto Young-jae’s wrists and yanked his hands to her face. She inhaled at the sensation. _So good!_ She moved the hands down and down—down her neck, across her clavicles, lost for a wonderfully long moment--

Young-jae pulled his hands away, cursing.

“Fuckin’ pills! Shit. Samantha, focus! We need to go _right now_!” He reached out again, grabbing onto Sam’s shoulders this time, which was covered by the blanket, and maneuvered her in front of him. He pushed her down the tunnel at a rapid pace.

“I can’t....walk…they feel…my legs…like logs,” Sam protested, aware that her breaths were growing heavy. The warmth had not let go of her this time.

Young-jae muttered under his breath again. Sam suddenly felt her world go horizontal as Young-jae slid an arm under her knees, another around her shoulders, and proceeded to carry her as he continued to walk.

Young-jae had been wearing a tank top all this time, with a black bandana tied around his neck. The increased skin contact sent tingles up Sam’s spine, and she reached for Young-jae’s clothing as if in a dream. Her fingers threaded under the bandana, seeking the skin of his neck.

It was warm—so warm—and she wanted— _did_ she want it? She couldn’t get her thoughts under control—to feel the pulse that made everything so warm and hazy.

“Young-jae?” Sam whispered tentatively as she breathed against his neck. She saw his jaw clench and his shoulders tense.

"Noona, please don't...." He was trying to keep calm, and increased his speed again, but Sam could tell he was affected. His breaths were shortening, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He bit his lip as Sam’s hands continued to trace the muscles in his neck and then sideways, following the collarbone.

“Sam! Please, you’ve been drugged!” His words slammed into her fuzzy mind, but she _had_ processed them. _Those pills they gave me are making me act like this. They wanted me to,_ she gulped, _enjoy it…._ The thought filled her with disgust, and she was able to pull back her hand from under Young-jae’s clothes. She clenched her fist, hard, and forcing it to stay that way. Feeling the nails digging into her palm helped a bit.

"I'm so sorry,” Sam murmured, “I'll try to fight it."

"Yea. Just...try to control it until we get to our location," Young-jae encouraged, not looking at her. He veered down another side tunnel and inhaled deeply, as if trying to keep it together as well, for her sake.

* * *

 

_B.A.P. Hideout, Eastern Outskirts of San Juan_

 

Dae-hyun opened the door as soon as he heard Young-jae’s alert over the comm radio that he had made it to the stairs. He saw his friend descending the steps sideways, Sam in his arms. They both looked bedraggled and stained. Young-jae’s eyes were alert, though, if a bit agitated. Sam’s eyes, however, were closed tightly, her hands fisted by her chest.

“Hey, you made it!” Dae-hyun said, “What’s wrong with her?”

Young-jae brushed past Dae-hyun, headed towards the bedroom, “She’s been drugged. Get her a large glass of water and leave her in there,” Young-jae instructed.

“Drugged? What kind of drug?”

“Some sort of poppers,” Young-jae replied, not meeting Dae-hyun’s eyes as he laid Sam gently on the queen-sized mattress. She groaned, but didn’t say anything, turning onto her side.

The room they were standing in served as a rest area for any of the B.A.P. members. Besides the bed, there was a sofa pressed against one wall, a couple of bedside tables, and a small chest of drawers beside the bathroom door that matched the hardwood flooring. In the soft light, the cream walls glowed.

If Sam needed anything, Dae-hyun supposed it was all there. He set the glass of water on one table, and together, the two B.A.P. members walked out and locked the door.

“So…we just leave her like that?” Dae-hyun demanded, concerned. If what Young-jae said was true and Manuel’s men had dosed Sam with aphrodisiacs (poppers), she’d be going, well, crazy—for lack of better words—once she awoke.

Young-jae grimaced, guilt clear in his eyes, “That is the only thing we can do for her right now, right? Or do you think--”

“So you made it back safely,” Yong-guk stated as he walked in. He looked relaxed with his hands in his pockets, but his eyes scanned the room expertly. “Where is she?” he asked, straight to the point.

Young-jae gave his hyung a quick synopsis. Dae-hyun noticed his colleague skimmed over the drug effects rather vaguely, his eyes not meeting anyone’s gaze. _What happened?_ Dae-hyun wondered.

B.A.P.’s leader sighed. “Just leave her there for now. I need one of you to accompany me to _Uncle John’s Restaurant_ for a bit of ‘spring cleaning.’ Him-chan and Jong-up are already there. Kim and Zelo will provide tips and navigation once we arrive,” Yong-guk explained, holding up a GPS and the key to his Bugatti Veyron. “Let’s move. Who’s goin--”

“Roger that!” Young-jae jumped forward and snatched the two items before Dae-hyun could do so. He had always liked the Veyron, but the relief that had flashed across Young-jae’s face was worrisome. Dae-hyun glanced back at the door behind which Sam slumbered.

He was going to have to check up on her eventually.

“All right then,” Yong-guk case Dae-hyun a considering look, “Might as well be you.” _What’s that supposed to mean?_ “You stay here and keep things…in hand. Keep your radio on in case we need further backup.”

Dae-hyun nodded. B.A.P. was in the middle of a mission, and with the unexpected addition of Sam’s rescue, now was not the time to argue.

Yong-guk patted the younger man’s shoulders and left to join Young-jae in the car.

* * *

 

_The Le’s Safe House, Edge of El Tunque National Forest_

Secure in the underground tech room of the safe house, Zelo and Kim sat side by side in front of four monitors, busy preparing for Operation Spring Cleaning, also known as the last assault on Manuel Gonzalez.

Zelo double-checked the information he and Kim had gathered the other night on Manuel’s HQ, as the dot that labeled Him-chan and Jong-up on the map stopped near the location: a building that used to serve as an American restaurant back in the eighties. However, the owner had moved back to the States, leaving the lot abandoned. Five years later, Manuel had purchased the area for mere pennies.

According to the thirty-year old floor plans, Manuel had installed quite a few additions to the original building. The first floor had been refurbished and expanded, doubling the square feet, and served as his main supply house for material imports and exports. The second story housed several rooms. Some recreational, from what he had seen through the windows; others, more dubious. Zelo was going to guess an armory, a prison, and a security room.

He’d find out soon enough. Combining the NSA’s favorites, SIGINT and COMINT, in order to hack into Manuel’s HQ was going to be fun. Zelo stretched his fingers in front of him, a grin on his face.

On screen, the dot standing for Yong-guk’s Veyron pulled up next to Him-chan and Jong-up.

Zelo typed a couple of commands into the keyboard, deft fingers tapping smoothly. According to the satellite images, down the road were several vans and truck. Some were departing, others entering, dropping off people in corporate attire. Everyone seemed busy, running in and out and around the headquarters. It was half after midnight and Manuel’s business was booming.

Kim’s phone rang. If Zelo’s memory served correctly—which it nearly always did—the tune was keyed to Him-chan. Another couple of commands, and Kim’s incoming call was rerouted to his computer. Zelo intercepted the call before Kim could hit “answer.”

She shot him a mild glare. Zelo smiled impertinently.

The two of them had worked communications together more than a dozen times in the past years. Zelo had taught her many of his tricks—well, many of his _known_ tricks—and Kim knew enough to coordinate a team alongside him.

 _“Hey, we’re here.”_ Him-chan’s voice came through loud and clear.

“Ok. Hold on, the others should be coming into view in a few seconds,” Kim answered as she located him on her monitor. “Radio comm’s to channel three, everyone.” Zelo murmured some pre-set testing phrases. Everyone answered correctly.

“We’re secured. No stray signals in the area that we know of,” Zelo confirmed for Yong-guk. “Protocol One in affect for the mission.” _Hopefully Jong-up remembers this time that that means everyone on the field did not need to thumb their earpiece in order to speak._ Yong-guk had reminded him time and again not to be so obvious. Kim and Zelo still had to click the “Ctrl” key to talk, but that was to lower distractions for everyone else.

One of the buttons on Kim’s left control panel was blinking red.

“That’s Dae-hyun,” Zelo informed her.

“Thank you.” Kim pressed the button, linking Dae-hyun to the underground safe house room.

“ _How’s it going?”_ Dae-hyun inquired.

“Looks like everything is in place. We’re just about to get started,” Zelo said, putting on the communication head set. He thumbed the blue button to refresh all the monitors. Everything was in working order. “Can everyone hear me?” Zelo double-checked.

 _“Loud and clear!”_ six voices replied.

Kim took a deep breath next to him and snapped, “Ok guys, do _not_ screw this up!”

“ _Aww, Noona, your pep talks are so invigorating,”_ Young-jae said.

“You’re welcome,” Kim retorted. Young-jae chuckled softly.

On screen number two, the map showed four dots hovering near the back entrance of Manuel’s headquarters. Their vehicles had been parked a ways back from the loading area. Zelo narrowed his eyes at the self-refreshing satellite scans. There were five semi’s parked there. Zooming in, the word “Dangerous” could be seen stamped on the boxes being transferred. _Greeaaat…_ Zelo thought to himself.

 _“It's like 1:00 a.m. and these guys are still hard at work. Gotta give them some credit, huh?”_ Young-jae complimented.

 _“Young-jae, less commentary, please,”_ Him-chan said, ever polite.

 _“Zelo, report.”_ That was the boss. Zelo cleared his throat.

“Two-story building, built circa 1980 with extensive reconstruction efforts—though nothing we should have too much trouble with. There are a total of eight doors: two main exits and entrances, two back entrances, and two emergency exits. The front and back entrances show high traffic, so our best bet is to use the two emergency exits located on the north and south walls, opposite each other. We’ll need two teams to enter simultaneously. Kim and I will take care of the navigation.

“Plan Young-jae’s-Favorite-Kidnapping-Game was interrupted before it reached fruition, so Yong-guk has decided to replicate the op we pulled in Milan. Him-chan hyung, Yong-guk huyng: you two should be receiving the updated building blueprints on your phones now...There should be four blinking green dots denoting B.A.P. Those scattered red dots are everyone else.

"Noona and I will be tapping into the security cameras. Keep an eye on you. The ‘dungeon map’ is just in case they actually get smart and pull the camera feeds all together. If that happens and I don’t have time to hack back into their system to reboot the visual input, just follow the possible escape routes I programmed. It should be an option on the pull down menu,” Zelo finished.

“ _You sound excited, Zelo_ ,” Yong-guk remarked.

“So do you, boss,” Zelo rejoined with a smile.

_“Fair enough. Alright, let's get to it.”_

* * *

 

_Team 1: Yong-guk, Jong-up, and Kim_

Yong-guk followed Jong-up through the north emergency exit without any immediate problems. The stairway was deserted. He gripped his Kimber Custom II .45 ACP semiautomatic pistol with one hand as he ascended the stairs. Jong-up went ahead of him carrying his preferred rifle of the month, a Colt M15/A4 Carbine. Both of them wore Kevlar vests over their regular black attire as well as their ATAC combat boots.

On the second-story landing, the pair stopped, arranged to either side of another door. Jong-up looked to Yong-guk for the signal. He was about to nod when Kim’s voice reached their earpieces.

“ _Hold on! There are three armed guys behind it.”_ Kim paused, probably switching between camera feeds. _“OK, two of them left together. One’s still hangin’ around though. Oh, wait, he’s marching down the hallway, on sentry duty, I’m guessing. You can enter now, but watch out for him. He's on your left, Guk,”_ Kim warned.

Yong-guk held up his index finger, and pointed to the door, indicating the guard. Jong-up would have heard Kim, so he already knew their enemy’s position. His finger then drew a short line across his neck, then in a key-twisting motion over his lips. Jong-up met his eyes, nodded, and slung his rifle behind his back, understanding the B.A.P.’s private hand signals for “silent kill.”

Yong-guk quickly picked the door handle lock, but left it closed. The two men waited until Kim reported that the guard had just passed the door again, then Jong-up eased the door open, slipping on silent feet into the hallway.

Yong-guk followed, just in time to see Jong-up grab the man’s head on both sides and wrench it hard to one side. The guard crumpled to the ground like a marionette with its strings severed.

Jong-up was the only one in B.A.P. to perform that maneuver with any amount of consistency. Contrary to most action movies, it was extremely hard to break another person’s neck. Nigh impossible when they were expecting the move, or even during a fight. The best way was to catch someone completely off-guard. And with enough strength to not only pop the cervical vertebrae, but also tear the tendons, fatally damaging the delicate spinal cord within.

Jong-up did it with aplomb.

He had never bragged about it. _But that’s Jong-up for you,_ Yong-guk thought to himself. The B.A.P. leader was always glad to have their second youngest member on their side when faced with a demonstration of Jong-up’s combat skills.

 _“Good job, Jong-up,”_ Kim voiced, _“Ok, let's move on. Take a right at the next corner.”_

* * *

 

_Team 2: Him-chan, Young-jae, and Zelo_

Zelo hummed to himself as he watched Him-chan’s and Young-jae’s dots dart back and forth on the screen as they fought a group of guards. It wasn't a big jump to assume that his fellow B.A.P. would win. Years of Tae Kwon Do, plus a couple of SIG P226’s with TiRant silencers took care of things. The element of surprise also helped.

Zelo ensured the cameras were looping a feed of an undisturbed hallway once more, then switched to one where he could see Him-chan and Young-jae.

The two of them were undressing. _Huh._

Zelo decided to keep quiet, and soon deduced their plan. They were donning the guards’ uniforms as a disguise. _Nice plan. They shouldn’t encounter any more problems, and I won’t necessarily have to keep looping the cameras in every hallway they reach. Wonder who thought of the idea? Young-jae or Him-chan?_

 _“Urgg! These uniforms are ugly as heck!”_ Young-jae’s voice carped.

 _“Mine smells...like tulips…that’s strange,”_ Him-chan added.

Despite the complaints, the two of them continued deeper into the interior of the first-floor warehouse, saluting other guards as they thought necessary.

They came upon a large room, set up as a cargo cell. Boxes were stacked floor to ceiling. A few were opened, its innards strewn onto a work desk. The long tube-like objects had been placed in the center of a mat, a number of cutting tools beside them.

Zelo manipulated the camera to zoom in on the tube labels. What he read, made him reach for the microphone key straightaway. “Hyungs, watch your step. There’s TNT on the table, and probably in all those boxes, too. I don’t know if there’s any on the ground for sure or not,” Zelo warned.

 _“TNT? As in dynamite?”_ Him-chan clarified.

“Trinitrotoluene, yes,” Zelo answered.

 _“Why would they keep so much dynamite here? And who the fuck uses dynamite these days. We use C4, right Hyung?”_ Young-jae questioned.

“Yes, we use Composition C, made of RDX, or cyclotrimethylene trinitramine, combined with plasticizers called diethyl--”

“Ugh, Zelo! You could’ve stopped at ‘yes,’” Young-jae interrupted. Zelo smiled to himself but complied.

Meanwhile, Him-chan had leaned over the table to examine one of the tubes. “ _Hah! Oh, this is clever.”_ Him-chan grabbed the tube and tossed it in one hand. Zelo tensed, his eidetic memory throwing out the known dramatic consequences of upsetting TNT.

But nothing happened.

“ _They’re not really dynamite sticks_.” Him-chan tore the end off of the TNT tube and tipped it over in his palm. White powder poured out. _“They stuffed cocaine in here.”_

“Oh! Because people would normally stay away from stuff that’s supposedly blow them up right?” Young-jae concluded, voice proud at having deduced it correctly.

“Yes, it’s a good idea. Rather clever of them,” Zelo agreed, “That is, until they get arrested for hoarding that much explosive anyway.” _Backwater, low-level criminals,_ he mused, _Sheesh._ Clearly, Manuel’s strongest business was not in the drug department.

"Well, then, let’s solve that problem for them and take a few crates off their hands,” Him-chan said.

"Yesssur!" Young-jae replied cheerily.

Zelo continued scanning the cameras while Him-chan darted off into the woods where he had parked his van.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()


	15. Further Complications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GRAPHIC ADULT CONTENT BELOW. GO BACK NOW IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER, OR IF YOU PREFER NOT TO READ SUCH THINGS, SKIP THE PARAGRAPHS INDICATED. THE CHAPTER CAN BE READ WITHOUT IT JUST AS EASILY.

* * *

_B.A.P. Hideout_

Dae-hyun munched on a protein bar while he listened in on the operation. So far, so good. His phone had also been linked to one of Zelo and Kim’s four monitors, by request, so he could see a quarter of the action. Currently, it showed Yong-guk hyung and Jong-up traversing hallways, taking down guards as they went. They looked like they were having fun.

Then again, Dae-hyun was not Young-jae; he could appreciate taking the back seat once in a while. Plus, he got to eat. Maybe he could rummage through the cupboards again. Surely, there were more than protein bars here.

There came a sudden muffled thump from the bedroom. Then another, louder than before. Dae-hyun immediately stood up to go check on Sam. _Did she fall out of the bed?_

The scene that greeted him as he unlocked and pushed the door inwards was jarring. Every loose item that had been on the drawers had been thrown to the floor, along with a couple picture frames and pillows. The bedside table ly on its side, and Sam sat near it, banding her head against the walls. Hard.

“What the hell?” Dae-hyun exclaimed, moving to her side and pulling Sam backwards. Her hair was in complete disarray. Dirt and grime from her earlier escapades smeared her cheeks and arms. She had her eyes firmly closed and her mouth clenched into a hard line. She shook her head in some sort of denial.

“Okay, okay, Sam, hold on. I’m going to get you a wet washcloth.” Dae-hyun hurried into the adjoining bathroom, running the water cold.

When he returned to the room, Sam was jabbing a shard of glass into her left arm. The remaining pieces of the broken water glass he had set in the room before was spread by her leg. Blood dripped down onto her thigh and ran to the floor.

“Hey! Shit! Get a hold of yourself! What are you _doing?_ ” He rushed to her side in two strides, grabbed both wrists and held them apart.

“NO! Don’t touch me! Get away! Please!” Sam screamed as she thrashed, trying to fight him off. Her eyes were darting side to side, avoiding his gaze desperately. _Why was she trying to hurt herself?_ Aphrodisiacs didn’t do this. At least, Dae-hyun didn’t think so.

“Dae-hyun! What the fuck is happening over there?” Kim demanded, having also heard the noises from Dae-hyun’s ear piece.

“It’s Sam!” he answered, struggling to hold Sam still, “She’s going completely insane!”

“What did you do to her?” Kim yelled, alarmed.

“Nothing! She stabbed herself with a piece of glass!” Dae-hyun retorted, as he squeezed Sam’s metatarsals hard enough that she dropped her impromptu weapon. With one foot, he swept all the glass under the bed.

“She _what_?!”

“ _Guys! Get out from there!_ ” Zelo’s voice yelled, “You’ve been spotted! Kim, what have you been looking at?”

There were curses from both Yong-guk and Jong-up, followed by faint shouts voer the comms from what Dae-hyun assumed to be Manuel’s goons.

“Split up!” Yong-guk commanded.

“Sorry! Jong-up take the door ahead. Yong-guk, you’re gonna hve toe go down those stairs on yoru left and back up another flight to return to where you were,” Kim instructed, voice frazzled. “Dae-hyun, is Sam gonna be okay?”

“NOONA! Please pay attention!” Zelo reprimanded. Kim cursed loudly and asked no further questions. Dae-hyun could hear her frantic typing over the comms.

“Dae-hyun,” Zelo’s voice, “Sam must be resisting the methamphetamine mix. If she’s resorted to fucking stabbing herself, she’s using pain as a distraction.” _Damn._ Dae-hyun found himself reevaluating Sam’s strength of mind. Being unable to control her own body’s reactions must be terrifying for her.

Dae-hyun wanted to help her, but he didn’t know how. She had her hands on her head now, pulling at her hair.

And things were really starting to heat up over at Manuel’s HQ from what Dae-hyun could discern.

“OK, I’ll just get back to you guys later. I’ll shut off my end so you can concentrate,” Dae-hyun decided.

“But Dae-hyun, Sam--” Kim objected worriedly.

“I’ll keep her safe,” he promised, and removed his earpiece.

* * *

 

Sam was losing her mind.

The rush of blood in her veins seemed deafening. She felt feverish; everything was too hot. Her vision had sharpened somehow, the colors of the room leaping out at her. She struggled to remain in control.

 _Don’t lose control, Sam! Keep it together!_ She thought frantically.

Abruptly, she found she could feel her leg. It was lying next to the overturned edge of the bedside table. She kicked out purposefully, making contact with her shin. Pain lanced through her brain, bringing a second’s break from the overwhelming _need_ growing in the pit of her stomach.

“What are you doing?” cut in Dae-hyun’s horrified voice, “Are you trying to kill yourself? Shit! Your arm is already bleeding, Sam!” Dae-hyun shifted his hands to her shoulders and dragged her towards him and away from the table. He spun Sam around, wrapping his arms around her from behind, trying to immobilize her.

Sam’s entire body stiffened, coiled like a frightened wild cat. The feel of his arms on her skin _burned_. She was hyper aware of the hard planes of his chest pressed against her back.

“Don’t...don’t touch me....” Sam said, her words strained as she forced the words out between her teeth.

“It’s all right. You’ll be all right,” Dae-hyun soothed, though he sounded slightly unsure, “Let’s go get some water, ok? You need water.” His nose rested by her left ear, and the feathering of his breath drove her further towards madness. She imagined it like a cliff in her mind—and she was going to fall over any minute. _God, he smells so good!_

Dae-hyun’s thumbs moved over her biceps, trying to comfort her. Her nerves electrified and Sam yelped. She slammed her head backwards.

Dae-hyun dodged, narrowly avoided getting a broken nose. Unfortunately, his reaction loosened his hold and Sam darted away, across the room in a flash. She stood, her back to him, clinging to the chest of drawers, gulping deep breaths of air.

_I can’t. I can’t give in. I can’t! I mustn’t!_

"Noona?” Dae-hyun asked uncertainly. Sam watched in the mirror as the younger man got to his feet as well and took a few steps closer, stopping at the sofa, an arm’s length away.

"Let me go fetch you another cup of water," Dae-hyun finally offered. His expression looked helpless. Her blurry reflection in the mirror showed much of the same thing.

He began to turn around, intending on leaving.

Suddenly, Sam couldn’t bear it anymore—the space remaining between them. And he was about to leave! He couldn’t leave her!

“No! Don't go!” she heard herself say. Dae-hyun halted. The desire to run to him was rising, flooding her thoughts. She dug her nails into the wooden surface, but inside her mindscape, she stood right at the edge of the cliff now.

 _I…I can’t…_ She felt hot tears prickling at the corner of her eyes.

"P-please...help me...” Sam whispered, not quite sure what she was asking for now. A haze was settling over her eyes.

Dae-hyun hesitated, clearly torn, but her plea caused him to take a step closer.

The scent of him overwhelmed her.

And she tipped forwards, over the cliff.

* * *

 

Two people stood, frozen, in a softly lit bedroom, in a hideaway house, on the outskirts of San Juan, Puerto Rico.

The woman had stopped moving; the man held his breath, sensing the abrupt change in her. Time shrunk down to that one nanosecond, stretching longer than physics deemed possible.

Dae-hyun took one last step forwards, one arm out—to help Sam in some way, though he didn’t know how.

He blinked, and suddenly found himself slammed backwards into the chest of drawers, a slender Asian woman with wild hair pressing him against the wood.

Sam had grabbed his arm and reversed their positions, showing more physical strength than Dae-hyun thought her capable of. He caught sight of her brown eyes—the pupils were blown with lust, the black depths opened to nothingness—right before Sam’s lips claimed his.

Her kiss was relentless, teeth scraping his. He had to open his mouth just so his lips wouldn’t be cut.

Sam seized the chance, winding her tongue with his, as her hands came up to grip his hair in a greedy motion. Dae-hyun kissed back on instinct. A hot female was kissing him, her body’s movements projecting quite clearly what she wanted.

Dae-hyun was no stranger to this particular dance. He’d had many such encounters, in many different settings, and with many different women—both as part of the job, and on his own for fun, though the latter happened much less than the hyungs may guess.

His body could perform the motions without a second thought. But he had never done this when his partner had not been completely willing. The reminder that Sam had been drugged made his pull back, hands on her shoulders.

“Sam, we shouldn’t do this,” he said, scanning her eyes for signs of lucidity, “You’re not thinking straight.”

Instead of the understanding he was hoping for, a coy smile appeared, and Sam peered at him from her lashes in a way that looked completely wrong on her.

“Dae-hyun,” she whispered in a silky voice that made his blood rush downwards. One of her hands came around to stroke his cheek. She stood on her tips toes so that her lips stopped inches from his ear. “I want you.”

She ground her hips forward into his to prove her point.

They were kissing again before he could stop himself. His body was definitely responding, but he wrenched away again, this time wiggling out from between Sam and the dresser.

“This…is probably not right,” he protested, huffing.

Sam advanced on him, her steps slow and graceful.

“Just imagine someone else then. I won’t mind.” She swung her hips enticingly and one hand came up to pull down the strap of her camisole past her shoulder. The other strap had already been torn.

“Sam…” Dae-hyun’s eyes were glued to her movements.

She reached out and took his hand, guiding it to her sternum. The moment there was skin contact, Sam threw her head back and moaned, the sound almost like relief. Her hold on his wrist tightened and she guided it downwards.

Dae-hyun tried to pull back, but Sam held fast. Certain that they were nearing the point of no return, Dae-hyun spun them around, moved his hand up to her shoulder and pushed her backwards.

She still did not let go, instead using her weight to pull him down with her. They landed halfway on the bed, Dae-hyun bent over Sam.

She sighed and wriggled her lower body. _Oh, fuck…_ Dae-hyun’s thoughts were starting to scatter, as the sensations affected his body and mind.

He placed both of his hands on her shoulders this time and shoved Sam back, creating space between them.

“We are _not_ doing this,” Dae-hyun tried again, injecting as much surety into his statement as he could, in his aroused state.

Sam’s dilated eyes flashed, angry. She tried to yank him back down by his shirt collar, but he resisted.

“No! I need this! I need you to touch me, to kiss me!” Sam demanded fiercely, clearly frustrated. Her predicament pulled at Dae-hyun. He had not been the one to drug her, but she was plainly suffering from the effects of the aphrodisiacs. She had loss all control.

Some part of Sam seemed to realize that, too, because her forcefulness lessened a bit, and she met Dae-hyun’s eyes, utterly desperate.

“Please, just….please, Dae-hyun…please, please.” Her words were nearly silent by the end of the phrase, her mouth moving without sound as she shut her eyes. Tears showing her distress escaped and ran down the sides of her face.

Dae-hyun found he couldn’t deny her.

**(WARNING: EXPLICIT SEX SCENES START NOW.)**

He leaned down and gently kissed her. Thoroughly this time, hands on either side of her face. She whimpered under his touch, and kissed him back.

Her arms wound around his neck as their tongues explored each other’s mouths.

Dae-hyun’s hands found Sam’s bare shoulders and kneaded the muscles he found there. Sam exhaled out of her nose in pleasure. Her hands drifted down to the hem of his long-sleeved shirt, slipping under it and moving upwards, feeling his abs and chest.

Sam broke their kiss to pull the garment over Dae-hyun’s head quickly. He allowed it, before leaning back down to kiss her neck. She let him get as far as her clavicle before she wrapped her thighs around his hips and rolled them.

Her movements were faster now, the urgency of before returning.

She yanked off the remains of her camisole and discarded her pink bra. Dae-hyun sat up and wrapped his hands around her hips. In one motion, he pulled the both of them backwards to lie fully on the bed.

Sam went eagerly, landing on top of him, her legs to either side. Her breasts met his chest, and Dae-hyun could feel her nipples on his skin. He pulled her up for another kiss.

She moaned hungrily and ground her hips into his again. Due to their position, the contact was much more exquisite—and much more effective—than while they had been standing. Dae-hyun’s erection strained against his black pants, and he bucked.

That earned him a vocal groan of pleasure.

Their eyes met, and they both simultaneously separated, hands going to the clasp at his waist. He pulled his legs free of his pants quickly, then reached for his boxers at the same time Sam did. The moment his body was completely bereft of clothing, Sam’s hand wrapped around his member, her warm hand sending delicious signals up his spine.

He arched back into her touch, inhaling.

Her fingers played with the head, tracing circles around and around as her other hand rubbed down his right thigh leaving tingles in its wake. Two long strokes left him rock hard, the veins clearly visible.

Suddenly, Sam let go and rolled onto her back, her hands scrambling for her own shorts. Dae-hyun kneeled over her and quickly help her accomplish the task.

Both naked, Dae-hyun paused, taking in the sight of Sam’s body. Sam had pale, unblemished skin stretched across all the right curves, her waist accentuating her hourglass figure. Dae-hyun was able to glimpse the dark curls at the juncture of her thighs only for a moment before Sam ran out of patience.

She reached up and pulled him down on top of her, skin touching from toes to chest. Her hand grabbed his and guided it to her already wet center. She moaned loudly as his fingers ran down her folds.

Dae-hyun met her lips lustfully, fingers carefully exploring her. He slipped a finger inside and curled it. Her hips bucked upwards, urging him on. She was breathing rapidly now and her legs spread to give him more access, knees bending on either side. Her fingers squeezed his waist wantonly.

Shit, but it was so fucking sexy.

He withdrew his hand, quickly maneuvering himself at her entrance.

They met each other in one hard thrust, hip to hip. He slid easily into her, both of them moaning together, heedless of volume.

Sam moved before he did, setting up a reckless pace, thrusting from underneath him just as much as he did from above her.

She pulled him back down, striving to be closer than physically possible between two people. Their lips crashed together, but soon parted again as their breaths quickened. Their bodies kept moving, the fire between them building and building.

Dae-hyun could feel himself reaching the top, and reached a hand between them to stroke Sam’s sweet spot, fingers moving fast, back and forth.

Sam moaned and yelled out incomprehensible sounds, digging her nails into his back. He kept up the thrusts as her rhythm became uneven. With one last shout, she climaxed, her stomach clenching as she arched her body. He felt her folds tightening around him, and let himself go.

A couple more thrusts sent him following her over the edge in a blissful burst of sensation.

It was his turn to arch, small sounds escaping his lips.

**(END OF GRAPHIC SEX.)**

When he finished, Dae-hyun collapsed on top Sam. Both of them lay there in the afterglow, breathing heavily, covered in sweat.

As always, after having intimate relations, Dae-hyun reveled in the lax feeling running through his muscles, the dopamine rush making his brain feel like it was floating on clouds.

He rolled off of Sam and onto his side, facing her. She must have been feeling the same rush of endorphins because she smiled lazily. She sighed contentedly. Her arm never let go of his side and she pressed her body to chest, inhaling deeply.

Dae-hyun wondered if she’d be okay now—wondered if she’d regret this entire incident later— _She would, wouldn’t she? She had been drugged after all_ —as he looked down at her black hair. Her hand rubbed the skin on his back and she nuzzled into his neck. The relaxed feeling increased and Dae-hyun closed his eyes.

_I guess I’ll think about it later._

If Dae-hyun could have possibly known that this would not be a singular event within the next couple hours, he would have gotten up and left Sam while she rested.

()()()()()()()()

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my first sex scene. Hope those of you who wrote it enjoyed it. Leave a comment below and tell me how I did. Thanks!


	16. Green Dots, Red Dots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jong-up gets separated from Yong-guk during the mission. No problem, right? Right....

* * *

“No, Jong-up, take the third door on the left! Crap, I mean your other left. You need to get to where Yong-guk is!” Kim instructed, as Jong-up tore down the corridor, a handful of armed men in pursuit.

Her pair of B.A.P. members had separated earlier when they had been discovered by a group of men ascending a stairwell. Since then, Kim had had to work double time, looping two cameras at once, mindful of Manuel’s own security monitors. They had lost the element of surprise by now, what with all the shouts and gunfire afoot, but if their hired guns couldn’t relay Yong-guk’s and Jong-up’s locations, they couldn’t find a way to outflank them.

“ _Where is he? I dropped my phone while running down the stairs; it’s busted, I think,”_ Jong-up said. Right, now Kim had to direct both Yong-guk and a navigationally blind Jong-up on intercepting paths around enemy sightlines.

“Take the passage to your right,” Kim stated.

“No, bad idea!” Zelo interjected, “There are guards coming from that direction. Camera 17A.” Zelo informed.

“How is it that you’re watching my screens as well as yours? Is Him-chan and Young-jae doing that well?” Kim questioned, a bit irked. Zelo was undoubtedly in his element here, but even he had to concentrate to do his job.

“They got disguises,” Zelo responded. He typed a few commands. “I’m sending the van to you now, Him-chan hyung.”

 _“Which way do I go?”_ Jong-up asked, confused. Kim continued flipping through camera feeds. Yong-guk’s dot was moving west, along an outer hallway. Jong-up was somewhere on the north end. _Damn it, whoever planned the construction of this building ought to be shot! It makes no logical sense at all,_ Kim thought viciously.

 _“Noona!”_ Jong-up hissed urgently, as the cluster of men neared his position.

“Hold on! I’m thinking; don’t rush me,” Kim hesitated.

 _“Can I come back to haunt you if I die today?”_ Jong-up commented.

“No, Jong-up!” Kim denied, “OK, here, take the doorway on your right, turn at the second left. It should be a break room with another door opposite. You should come out in a corridor fairly close to Yong-guk’s location. I’ll get him to meet you halfway, OK?”

 _“Can you repeat that?”_ Jong-up’s question was immediately followed by shouts. _“Aaagh!”_

Kim assumed Jong-up had leapt for cover. There was the sound of gunfire and yells in Spanish. The camera feed to Jong-up current hallway suddenly turned to static. _Shit._ Kim typed a few commands, but the camera was gone. It must have been hit by a stray bullet. Through her earpiece, she heard the salvo cut off abruptly.

“Jong-up?”

_“Here goes!”_

_Here goes what, exactly?!_ Kim thought anxiously.

There was an explosion, accompanied by cries of pain. Kim let out the breath she was holding when the sound dimmed and she could hear Jong-up’s breaths as he fled.

“Was that a grenade?” Kim asked. She paused, waiting for an answer. When nothing came, she tried refreshing the connection. 

“Hello? Jong-up, respond.” Kim started the troubleshooting analysis in another window.

She heard Jong-up sigh in frustration, muttering, _“Oh, come on!”_

There were more yells. Kim could see on the map that Jong-up had taken the wrong doorway in his haste. He stood now in a long corridor with multiple route options on both sides.

The computer dinged its troubleshooting completion. The message box read: Input, green; Output, red—unable to analyze.

“Dammit! Zelo, Jong-up’s earpiece is broken. I don’t know how. The mic still works, but I don’t think he can hear us anymore,” Kim reported to her fellow coordinator. “Jong-up, if you can hear me, you’re going the wrong way. You need to head west—that means take the next left!”

His blinking dot began moving straight down the hall and burst into a right-hand passageway. Kim cursed. Red dots followed on his heels, though a few of them blinked out, indicating that he had managed to shoot some of his pursuers.

“Shit! Zelo? You wanna--”

“Yea, I do,” Zelo appeared at her side. “Let’s switch teams. Make sure Him-chan and Young-jae are able to finish loading up those crates.”

“Gotcha,” Kim assented, and rolled her chair over to Zelo’s station. Sure enough, there was a monitor showing Zelo’s hyungs carrying boxes—was that dynamite?!—into a black van.

Kim hit the Ctrl button. “Uhh, are you sure that’s safe?”

Him-chan’s voice greeted her, _“Kim? What happened to Zelo?”_

“He’s playing the maintenance man. Jong-up’s earpiece broke.”

 _“Oh,”_ Him-chan responded, _“And his digital map?”_

“Broken, too.”

Him-chan sighed. _“Typical. This is all cocaine, by the way, not TNT.”_

 _“Should we back him up, boss?”_ That was Young-jae.

 _“No,”_ Yong-guk answered from wherever he was; Kim had not checked his location before switching stations. _“Zelo can keep an eye on him and my map’s still working. I’ll head his way when I can. Finish your part of the job you two.”_

 _“We copy,”_ Him-chan confirmed. The two disguised figures continued loading the crates.

Behind her, Kim heard Zelo talking to himself. “Ugh, this earpiece is not getting fixed remotely. I’d have to have it in my hands to repair it. Yong-guk, hang tight. I’m gonna do what I can to make sure Jong-up doesn’t meet too many guards…hmm, yea, I’ll hack into Manuel’s radio comm’s. Probably should have done that before with the ELINT subsystem to begin with. Shut them down or scramble their mic input. That should give Jong-up back some the surprise factor.”

He glanced up at the top left-hand screen—the map. “He’s just taking random doors and hallways at this point anyway, Yong-guk hyung. It’d be hard to catch up with him.”

_“It’s fine. I’m sure Jong-up can take of himself for a while.”_

Kim did not doubt that. In all the spars she had witnessed between B.A.P. none of them had ever beaten Jong-up. He wasn’t stupid, by any means, but whatever genes that were supposed to add to mental agility, had gone to his already considerable physical prowess instead. Kim also just thought Jong-up was a quiet person. Then again, she herself was…not quiet, so who was she to judge exactly?

 _“Ok, Hyung,”_ Young-jae’s voice brought Kim out of her musing. _“I don't think we can load anymore. Let's make off with what we can for now.”_

Kim smiled. _It was nice when things went smoothly._

 _“Oy!”_ A man’s voice shouted.

“What? Where did he come from?” Kim groaned. _I didn’t even say it out loud—how did I jinx myself?_ “Sorry guys, blind spot in that angled camera!”

 _“What are you two payasos doing out here?”_ the guard was saying. He carried a rifle slung over one shoulder, but not aimed towards Him-chan and Young-jae…yet. _“Shouldn't you be watching the front?”_

The man walked up to the pair, scrutinizing them one at a time, then turned his gaze to the back of their van.

 _“Wh...What the hell is all th--”_ The man dropped before finishing his sentence. Him-chan re-holstered his gun, but the bang—even with the silencer, the sound was still about 120 dB—had already attracted the other guards’ attention.

“ _Shit!”_ Young-jae cursed, darting for the driver door.

“Hurry!” Kim urged.

 _“Go! Go now!”_ Him-chan instructed as they both slammed their doors shut. Kim watched the van accelerate rapidly towards the loading gate. Business men and guards alike rushed to get out of their way. There were shots, but none slowed the large vehicle down. Within seconds, Him-chan and Young-jae’s van had made it to the road, and she heard Young-jae laugh mockingly out the window.

A group of men broke off from the building and Kim saw two black cars rev to life and go racing after their stolen drugs.

“You have two on your tail, both black sedans, four riders apiece. You two gonna be able to handle it?” Kim reported.

 _“Leave it to me, Noona! This is will be fun!”_ Young-jae replied enthusiastically.

 _“Yea, we’ll be fine for a while yet. Our tech’s intact. We have full navigation,”_ Him-chan confirmed.

Kim nodded, then remembered they couldn’t see her, “Good. Call me if you need me. I’ll stay silent otherwise so Young-jae won’t get distracted from driving.”

She looked over at Zelo. “How’s it going?”

“Eh, Jong-up’s still wandering around doing his thing. The men are beginning to fear him, I think. One group retreated just now. But he’s still nowhere near Yong-guk,” Zelo informed her. “Him-chan and Young-jae are in a car chase, did you say?”

“Yep.”

“Hmm. Too bad one of them couldn’t stay. Yong-guk’s a bit pinned right now. He’s gonna need backup. Preferably one with a working comm.”

“We need to contact Dae-hyun, then.” Kim pulled out her phone.

“I already tried. He isn’t replying.” Zelo looked at Kim, a calculating glint in his eyes. “Noona, you need to go in his stead. As in right _now_ , there’s no time to wait for Dae-hyun to call back.”

Kim blinked a couple times at the change of plans. “Uh ok, but will you be ok on your own?”

Zelo gave her a wry look, clearly questioning her common sense.

“Piece of cake, Noona. Go enjoy a nice shoot out.” Kim smiled at his blasé reply. “Oh, and take these.”

Zelo tossed Kim a bulletproof vest and an around-the-back holster, two loaded guns on each side.

“They’re both 9mm Berettas—PX4 Storm Type F, to be precise—and I’ve already ensured your phone has the updated software. You should see the same maps that we’ve been using up until now.”

“Thanks, kid!” Zelo scowled at her jibe.

Kim just grinned as she strapped on the holster on over her fitted tee shirt, leaving her jacket behind in favor of the vest. She checked the laces on her ankle boots, grabbed the key to her Lamborghini and left.

* * *

 

_Manuel Gonzalez’ Operations Headquarters (Formerly Uncle John’s Restaurante), San Juan Outskirts, Puerto Rico_

Yong-guk crouched in his hiding spot—a nondescript supply closet—shaking his head as he listened to his team. He hated it when Kim got ahold of guns. She turned into a crazy (well, crazier) version of her already fierce personality.

He peered out of the tiny crack he’d left in the doorway and double-checked his Kimber .45’s second magazine. Full.

“Zelo. How’s the situation with Him-chan?” Yong-guk spoke, voice low.

 _“Well they got the goods, but two parties are in pursuit to get said goods back.”_ He paused. _“Young-jae should be making wild turns right about now.”_

Yong-guk’s lip lifted in amusement, but he brushed the image aside, bringing his mental list of priorities back to the forefront, “And Jong-up?”

 _“He’s…gotten pretty far inside, from what I can tell. Some red dots are converging on his location, though. By the number, I think it may be more than simple hired hands acting as guards. You need to get to him as quickly as you can,”_ Zelo concluded.

“All right. The hallway seems clear now. I’ll head out. Lead the way, Zelo.” Yong-guk said, toeing open the door.

 _"You got it! Oh, and forget the cameras. I managed to sneak in a virus into their main server, using the fire alarm’s subroutine link-up.”_ Zelo’s tone was smug. _“Their security is running blind, and they should all be hearing German polka through their radios now.”_

Yong-guk strode ahead, following the route Zelo had sent to his phone’s map while he’d been talking. “The same polka Dae-hyun almost busted your eardrum with?”

“Yeess, that one,” Zelo was either wincing at the memory, or rolling his eyes.

“Good job, Zelo. Thanks for the all clear. Let me know when Kim gets here.”

 _“She should be arriving soon,"_ Zelo answered.

Yong-guk brought up his gun, aimed, and fired. The guard ahead of him tumbled forwards, landing on his face. Head shot.

* * *

 

In Jong-up’s humble opinion, the layout of this building was, in a word, whack. He was quite aware of—though not always concerned about—his poor sense of direction. At this moment, however, he cared very much.

He had been taking random hallways and doors for a good thirty-five minutes now, hoping he’d run into Yong-guk by chance. So far, no such luck. The guards he had encountered were easily dispatched, even though it left him with a distinct lack of grenades. He wasn’t worried, though, because his real forte was his physical strength. Hand-to-hand combat came naturally for him, like a dance to which he has always known the steps.

Yes, in that particular field, Jong-up excelled. In fact, he’d say his mind wasn’t too bad either. In the heat of battle, Jong-up thoughts seemed to accelerate, connecting intuition to thought to action in one fluid lightning-speed path.

In regular settings, though, he didn’t always know how to articulate the concepts in his brain, especially when faced with Zelo’s jargon or Young-jae’s euphemisms. Besides, most times, he was too preoccupied with interpreting non-verbal cues to hear actual words. In comparison to Zelo’s vast memory, Yong-guk and Him-chan’s almost-sign language, and Dae-hyun’s and Young-jae witty repartee, Jong-up functioned best as the quiet one of the group. In return, he got to sit back and ponder whatever caught his interest. The others kept him up to speed just fine.

At the moment, however, he was alone, running blindly, from room to room. The method did have its perks; he had found the bathroom not five minutes ago, and had taken the chance to utilize it. The guard that had followed him in was now unconscious by the toilet from a blow to the head.

Jong-up wondered idly whether he’d scared away all of the guards, because the last two corridors had been notably empty. There was a set of double doors to his right, unlabeled, so he couldn’t tell if it was important, but he figured, _Oh well, I guess this is my next turn._

He checked his carbine, trigger finger at the ready. Taking a step back for space, Jong-up kicked the spot where the door lock should be and it cracked obligingly. He barged into large room beyond, leading with his broad shoulders, and brought his weapon up to position.

A large man wearing a white suit and holding a smoking cigar turned to him, surprise on his face. The long gold chains around his neck clinked with the movement. Jong-up thought the scowling man might have looked familiar, but the thought was gone before he processed it.

“Who the fuck are you?” White-Suit demanded, clearly furious but with a hint of fear in his voice.

There was only one other person in the room: a slight, sweaty looking man wearing headphones, his hands poised to type at a computer terminal. Screens depicting static camera feeds faced him. Behind the screens was a wide glass window overlooking the loading doors on the first floor.

 _Wait, wasn’t this how Zelo described the command room?_ Jong-up thought. He couldn’t really remember the conversation….

Something moved at the edge of his vision and he dodged left. White-Suit had pulled out a revolver and fired. The bullet missed him by a generous meter. Making sure the seated computer guy was too scared to make any aggressive moves, Jong-up rushed White-Suit.

He slid under the enemy weapon’s aim, and brought the butt of his carbine up in a harsh uppercut. The metal smashed into the man’s fat chin, knocking his head back. The man dropped the gun, his hand coming up to cradle his jaw.

Jong-up followed up the blow with direct hits to the sternum, the gut, and finally, the back of the neck while the man was hunched over in pain. White-suit collapsed face first on the floor. Jong-up pulled out his handgun with his left hand, crouched down, and pressed the barrel against dazed man’s temple.

He clicked the safety off ominously.

The perspiring techie yelped and leaned back into his chair, too scared to get up to run away. Jong-up kept his carbine aimed at him with his right arm.

White-Suit started cursing profusely. Jong-up dug his knee into the man’s back.

“Shut up and don’t move,” Jong-up told him. The man’s mouth opened rebelliously but before he got a chance to voice his rebuttal, a door banged opened down the hall, the sound followed immediately by running footsteps.

“Boss!” One bearded man yelled in alarm as the group hustled into the room. Various firearms were suddenly aimed at Jong-up’s head. _Ah…so this is an important person. He probably knows the way out then. I’ll have to get him to come with me._

“Drop your weapons,” Jong-up ordered. No one moved, though there was some hesitation.

Jong-up dug his handgun into his captive’s skin, eliciting a pained shout.

“Tell them!” He fired a warning shot into the tiled floor inches from the man’s head to reinforce his meaning. “Right now!”

“Bien! Bien! No disparen! Don’t shoot! And d-do as he says, por el amor de Dios!” The men backed down at the order, laying their guns on the floor slowly.

“Now, which way is the exit?” Jong-up asked, nudging White-Suit in the ribs to get him to stand up. Jong-up stood up as well, handgun kept in place, as he used his hostage as a shield. The man’s wide girth provided plenty of protection.

The man pointed a pudgy finger at a side door. “That way,” he answered succinctly.

Jong-up nodded, “Then let’s go. No followers, or I’ll splatter his brains onto the walls.” Several men blanched, but fortunately none decided to play kamikaze hero.

Slowly, Jong-up maneuvered White-Suit through the door and out of the control room. He wished he had a grenade left over so he could hurl it in and shut the door, guaranteeing that he wouldn’t be followed.

_Hmmm…well, carbine it is._

He pulled the larger weapon’s trigger with his right hand, swinging the flashing muzzle back and forth to take down as many opponents as possible. Movement erupted inside the room, guards screamed, and a couple tried to pick up their previously discarded weapons.

And as luck (for Jong-up) would have it, one of those men was a newbie. In the confusion, he could not find his rifle; however, instead of grabbing a downed compatriot’s gun, his panicked mind decided to reach for his belt…and the grenade that hung there.

He grabbed it desperately—pulled the pin—

Jong-up caught the movement and shot the newbie right in the jugular. Blood squirted from the wound— _like a fuckin’ Tarantino movie—_ and the grenade dropped from the guy’s hand.

_Shit! Shit!_

Jong-up reached out and wrenched the door closed.

“MOVE!” he roared at White-suit, roughly shoving him down the hall. A second later, the explosion ripped through the passageway, rubble and smoke licking at Jong-up’s boots as he ran.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoy writing in Jong-up's POV. :)


	17. Red Dots, Green Dots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BAP finally catch up to Manuel Gonzalez, but Him-chan and Young-jae aren't around to celebrate. No, they're busy trying not to become splatters on the tarmac. High speed car chase style!

* * *

Kim arrived at the back entrance to find Manuel’s headquarters in complete chaos. Security guards were hollering through doors and down hallways, unable to communicate with each other over their jammed radios. Men dashed every which way. Any that had been there for business reasons were either demanding answers from the guards or yelling into their phones as they ran for their vehicles, seeking escape from the attack.

Kim adjusted her earpiece and tucked her ponytail under the hoodie she had found in the trunk. No need to catch someone’s attention because she was female. She was here to find Yong-guk, first, and for that she needed stealth and speed.

“I’m here,” Kim announced, pulling up the map on her phone.

“ _Take the entrance in front of you,”_ Zelo instructed, _“Your path should lead to the left and if you follow it correctly—well, and if nothing pops up at you—you should meet up with Yong-guk hyung shortly.”_

“‘If nothing pops up’?” Kim quoted Zelo, “You make it sound like I’m going in to play a game of ‘whac-a-mole.’”

 _“You are. Only with guns,”_ Zelo replied, “ _Now, it's clear, Noona. Go!”_

Kim complied, looking around cautiously, and then sprinting down the hallway and up the stairs. “Were you able to contact Dae-hyun?”

“ _No, he still hasn’t answered,”_ Zelo told her. “ _Should we be worried?”_

Kim sighed mentally, “Let’s just…concentrate on getting the shit here settled first. I’m sure Dae will be fine.” He could surely handle Samantha; if anything, he could knock her unconscious to stop her from harming herself. _Ugh! I’m gonna finish this and then find out what the hell happened to her!_

_“Noona!”_

Kim halted. “ _What_? Someone’s coming?” Kim drew one of her Berettas, her heart rate speeding up.

There was a tap on her shoulder. Kim spun around, ramming her elbow in the person’s face, stepped backwards out of reach, and took aim.

“Ow! What the _fuck,_ Kim! It’s _me_!” Yong-guk stood there, one hand touching his nose gingerly. He looked pissed.

Kim blinked, lowering her gun instantly. “Holy shit! Yong-guk! You ok? That’s what you get for sneaking up behind me.”

“Didn’t Zelo tell you I was coming?” her friend exclaimed.

“What? No, he didn’t say anything but, ‘Noona’ really loudly. Almost blew out my eardrum.”

“Zelo?” Yong-guk demanded.

“ _Oops_.” The youngest B.A.P. member did not sound repentant enough.

Kim narrowed her eyes. _Probably thought that was funny as hell,_ she thought.

“You’re buying tomorrow’s lunch, Zelo,” Yong-guk sighed, drawing his fingers away. A small trickle of blood was oozing from his left nare.

“Aw, dammit...I'm so sorry,” Kim apologized, wincing sympathetically. She tried to reach up to wipe the blood away, but Yong-guk pushed her hand off.

“No birthday gift for you!” He stated decisively. He wiped the blood on the back of his hand, and brushed past Kim gruffly.

“What, really?” Kim gave her token protest. _It’s a fair trade, though, I guess._

“Be grateful,” Yong-guk deigned to say as he strode through the first passageway Zelo had indicated, “The sentence would have been none for the rest of your life, if you had actually broken my beautiful features.”

“Beautiful features? You sound like a teenaged drama queen.”

“And you look like a gangly teenaged boy in that hoodie. What a couple we make.”

“What? Not everybody has clothes tailored for armed infiltration missions.”

“You’re just jealous.”

“Nuh uh,” Kim responded childishly, “I’ve got boobies.”

Even Yong-guk guffawed at that rejoinder. Kim smiled, hearing Zelo laugh as well.

Their smiles faded as they turned the corner. There were bodies and debris scattered in the hallway. A singed doorframe led into more of the same: dead men lying about the control room floor. Some had suffered severe burns. The monitors at the control station were all cracked beyond repair.

Stepping over limbs and fallen weapons carefully Kim peered out the window. The warehouse ground floor looked deserted now. Everyone who had wanted to had either escaped, hid, or were biding their time. B.A.P. had completed their objective in destroying Manuel’s HQ, that was for sure.

_Speaking of Manuel…_

“I don’t see Manuel’s body,” Yong-guk stated, voice unfazed, “Nor Jong-up’s.” He stood back up. “Zelo, tell me his inexplicable luck has held.”

“ _Oh, you have no idea_ ,” Zelo replied, sounding both amused and incredulous, _“I’ll relay the action later. At the moment, he’s got Manuel at gunpoint and is five rooms down the hall.”_

“Nice! He nabbed the big boss on his own,” Yong-guk praised.

“Way to go Jong-up,” Kim concurred, happy that Yong-guk was acknowledging his quiet B.A.P. member.

“But…knowing Jong-up, he probably has no idea who his captive is. We should hurry,” Yong-guk added and turned back to the ruined doorway.

 _Oh yeah,_ Kim shook her head a bit, and followed his lead.

* * *

 

Jong-up found himself at a dead end.

The door White-Suit had said lead to the exit stairway had actually opened into a small, one-window room. Jong-up had no idea what it was for, but that wasn’t really the important at the moment.

“You have nowhere to run, boy,” the fat man sneered triumphantly.

“You tricked me....” Jong-up frowned. _I can’t tell if he’s lying when I have no map and no working comm._

The man barked out a laugh, about to speak again when the first female voice Jong-up had heard since he started this mission sounded.

“It’s ok. I’ll show you the way out!” Kim’s alto voice declared cheerfully, as she stepped into the room behind the pair.

“Noona?” Jong-up blinked, confused. _Did I miss something?_ He really didn’t recall Kim being on-site. _I missed something…probably._

Yong-guk barreled in behind Kim, leaning back out to send his bullets down the corridor. The shouts of whatever pursuers they had accumulated on the way here died instantly.

“That all of them, Zelo? Good.” Yong-guk ejected the empty magazine and reloaded his Kimber as he smiled. “Hey Jong-up,” he greeted.

“Hyung!” Jong-up replied, relieved. If Yong-guk was here, that meant, things were going according to plan in the big scheme of things.

Yong-guk sauntered forwards, eyes focused on the man that Jong-up still held at gunpoint. White-Suit had stiffened the moment Yong-guk had entered the room, and as Jong-up turned to look at his face now, he could see the pallor that had overtaken his skin.

The frightened man opened his mouth, “You...what are you doing here?”

“Happy to see me, Gonzalez? How you been?” Yong-guk answered with a deadly smile.

 _Oh,_ Jong-up thought. _This guy is the head honcho we were supposed to catch?_ The man kept silent, leaning away as much as he could in Jong-up’s iron hold. _Well, then, I guess…_

“Mission accomplished!” Jong-up proclaimed aloud, grinning.

Kim smiled at him indulgently, giving him a thumbs up.

“Yes, well done, Jong-up,” Yong-guk praised, which Jong-up appreciated. He seldom ever needed verbal compliments, but it was still nice to know he made his hyung proud.

Kim handed him some zip-ties and together, they bound Manuel’s hands and feet. The fight seemed to have gone out of him, replaced by fear, evidenced by his wide eyes.

Jong-up looked up again when Yong-guk pulled out his cell phone to make a call.

“Hey! We’re done over here. How’s your end?” Yong-guk spoke.

Jong-up could hear the loud reply clearly, even through the phone.

“ _Um...Not as much fun as you, considering how smug you sound, Yong-guk_ ,” Him-chan answered. He sounded annoyed, and that was a pretty telling in itself. Jong-up could count on one hand how many times he had ever heard Him-chan hyung sound truly angry.

 _“To be honest, I thought we would have_ lost _them by now_.” The emphasis was probably meant for Young-jae, because Him-chan had increased the volume of his voice by the end.

Sure enough, Young-jae’s voice came through next, fainter, since he was driving.

“ _Give me a break, Hyung! I didn’t think they would stick to our asses like this!_ ” Young-jae retorted.

 _“Don’t look at me, Young-jae! Just turn!!_ ” Him-chan yelled.

“Ok, I’m sending over backup,” Yong-guk stated, still calm as ever. He met Kim’s eyes, giving her the head signal for "go help them out."

Kim hesitated, glancing at Manuel. Yong-guk nodded at her raised eyebrow. _Yea, Yong-guk hyung would not want Kim to be here for the next part,_ Jong-up guessed. It was easier to figure out what was going on around him when there was only one or two other people to pay attention to. When all of B.A.P. gathered, it was much harder for him to keep up.

Kim abruptly got to her feet and breezed out of the room, chatting with Zelo on the comms as she left.

Yong-guk cracked his head to the side, stretching his neck. Then, he crouched down next to Manuel’s sitting form. His long fingers fiddled with his gun idly. The man eyed the weapon, but remained stoic, not moving.

"All right then, Gonzalez. Where do you keep your other products?” Yong-guk questioned. He sounded like he was having a nice chit chat in the park. Jong-up kept quiet. Yong-guk nudged the captive man’s knee with the barrel of his gun.

“What other products?” Manuel spat, “Didn't your dogs already steal them all?”

“The human products,” Yong-guk voice was steel now. “Where do you keep the kidnapped women and children?”

Manuel gave him a protracted look of disgust. “There are no children here.”

 _Lies,_ Jong-up could tell.

Yong-guk wasn’t fooled either. He met Jong-up’s gaze and held up his free left hand, wiggling his fingers once. Jong-up nodded.

Grabbing the plastic zip-tie around Manuel’s wrist, Jong-up forcefully yanked the man's hands forward and fanned out each finger. Manuel lay sprawled on his belly, unable to bend his arms away. They were held firmly to the floor as by Jong-up’s applied weight.

“Here's how it works,” Yong-guk began, “I'm gonna blow each of your knuckles to bits, one by one, until you start talkin’.” Yong-guk set the muzzle of his Kimber .45 against Manuel’s left pinkie first to show he meant it.

Manuel was thrashing his legs uselessly. His girth made him unable to gain any sort of leverage to get to standing anyway. Jong-up kicked the man’s ribs anyway, in warning.

Yong-guk continued. “Fun right? Well... for me anyways. Now you gonna spill or what?”

He dug the metal into Manuel’s finger, which quickly grew purple with the pressure. The broken tile beneath Manuel’s hands ground into his skin.

“Arrrghhh! OK! OK! I’ll talk!” Manuel cried. Yong-guk eased up a bit. “They're truly not here though, _bien_? I have a different warehouse for them.” Manuel was talking fast, the words spilling out of his mouth.

 _That didn’t take long,_ Jong-up thought.

“Location?” Yong-guk inquired.

“Not here,” Manuel growled. Wrong answer.

Yong-guk fired a shot into Manuel’s left calf. He had moved only his hand to adjust his aim.

“MOTHER FUCKER! YOU FUCKING BASTARD! You said you weren't gonna shoot!” Manuel’s thrashed again, hollering and smearing blood on the floor. Jong-up tightened his hold on the man.

“I never said anything about your leg,” Yong-guk still spoke with that deadly steel.

Suddenly, he lowered his head towards Manuel's ear and yelled, “Location! Now! Or shall I shoot your other leg, too?”

“NO! NO!! Argh! No more shooting! Fuck! I get you, ok? It's at 4635 Avenida Ashford,” Manuel ground out, teeth gritting in pain.

“Zelo, you got that?” Yong-guk asked through his ear-piece. His voice returned to its regular volume as he stood.

Zelo must have confirmed the address, because his hyung continued.

“No, send it to Kim. Ask her to go there after she's finished backing up Him-chan and Young-jae. She’ll need the van anyways to transport those people.”

Finished, giving directions, Yong-guk turned back to Manuel.

“Many thanks for the info, Mr. Gonzalez,” Yong-guk said politely, a small smile on his face. He could have been a hotel concierge if not for the weaponry strapped to his person.

“You… _pinche bastardo_ ,” Manuel growled, disturbed.

“I’m nothing compared to you, though,” Yong-guk replied. The cold look in his eyes shut the other man up instantly.

“All right! Jong-up, let's ice this place.”

“Right behind you, Hyung.” Jong-up was determined not to split up this time. He’d had enough of those maze-like hallways.

He stood up, moving from Manuel’s hands to his feet. He seized the thicker zip tie there with on hand, drew a gun out with his other, and started after Yong-guk, dragging their captive along behind them.

"What the fuck! What are you doing, boy?!” Jong-up was getting tired of that moniker. “I gave you crazy fuckers the address! What do you need me for? Leave me here!”

“Gag him,” Yong-guk said over his shoulder.

Jong-up happily did so.

* * *

 

_Eastern Side of San Juan, Puerto Rico—Dirt Road_

Him-chan gritted his teeth as the van bounced in and out of a pothole in the road. He was going to have to discuss with Zelo the possibility of adding Bluetooth capabilities to their earpieces. Having to use cell phones once the comms were out of range was incredibly annoying when one was part of a car chase.

And especially when Young-jae was driving. It wasn’t even that he was a bad driver; it was the constant cursing and yelling combined with the swerving that bothered Him-chan.

After he had hung up with Yong-guk, Him-chan had reopened the GPS road map of San Juan on his smartphone. He directed Young-jae as best he could to the wider roads, hoping to lessen the amount of swerving.

They were riding in a van after all, not a sports car.

Brightly colored buildings rushed past in them on both sides of the road, closer than desired. Every now and then, there were clusters of cars and people parked on the gravel shoulder, visiting a food truck or private orchard.

Young-jae yelled at each one.

Him-chan sighed. They couldn’t keep this up. In order to lose their tails they were going to have to navigate the inner-city streets. There, the buildings stood closer together; the roads were less predictable. The caveat, of course, was whether their van would get stuck in a cul-de-sac, or encounter random construction detours.

“Hyung, I think our pals back there split up. I only see one car following us now.” Young-jae turned to look over both shoulders, checking the blind spots.

“I noticed. Just keep going on this road. I’ll try to slow them down.” Him-chan lowered his window, and turned in his seat. He braced his left arm on the side of the van and fired a few rounds at the smaller vehicle.

“Bulletproof glass,” he muttered to himself. He took aim again, lower this time, intent on blowing the front tires.

The van swerved violently into a sharp right turn and his bullets went wildly off track.

“Young-jae!”

“I found the other car!” Young-jae reported, yanking the wheel back to center. “They were headed straight towards us. I think they’re trying to make us head downtown.”

 _Great,_ Him-chan groused to himself.

Gunshots rang out then, a couple of them ricocheting off the van’s exterior. Him-chan pulled back, regaining his seat. He paused. _Ah, this is probably a bad idea._ But he _was_ still wearing the Kevlar.

He’d have to take the risk.

Him-chan holstered his gun and stepped in between the seats, heading towards the back of the van. “Take a left at the next light, and keep on Avenida Eduardo Conde if you can, Young-jae.”

“And what are _you_ doing?” Young-jae inquired, slightly alarmed.

“Taking care of the flies,” Him-chan said, clambering over the boxes of cocaine as best he could, trying not to fall over and crack his head open. “Don’t suppose you can pull a 180 in this van, can you?”

“That better be joke!” Young-jae shouted. “I mean, I probably could, but the weight would topple us, and these streets are getting narrower by the second!”

Him-chan nodded, though he knew Young-jae couldn’t see him. “Thought as much. OK, then, I’ll need you to do what Yong-guk did in the Prague getaway.”

“What?!” Young-jae looked back at him in disbelief.

“Think of it as a challenge. You love challenges!”

Young-jae’s expression flickered, indecisive. “What if I hit somebody?”

Him-chan frowned. “Then they have a car accident. C’mon, we gotta end this before we get smashed at an impasse!”

Young-jae grit his teeth. “Fine! Hang on!”

The younger man wrenched the wheel left. Him-chan felt the wheels thunk as they rumbled over the median, his stomach leaping with the sensation. Honks and screams met his ears.

Young-jae had swerved into oncoming traffic. It was hard to miss a black van coming right at you, and most of the drivers made sharp jerks of the wheel, mouths opened in surprise, but successfully avoiding the errant vehicle.

Some cars hit light poles or trees. Some scraped against a building. The rest of them— _the idiots,_ Him-chan thought ungraciously—slammed on their brakes, screaming at the top of their lungs.

“Fuck! This is fucking _crazy!!!_ ” Young-jae shouted, swerving to avoid stationary cars and pedestrians alike.

Him-chan grabbed his weapon of choice and threw open the back door. The howling of the wind and the chaos of the road instantly blocked off Young-jae’s curses.

As he had hoped, the black sedans were having a hard time following them. One was still traveling on the right side of the road. Its twin, however, had dared to follow, closing in on the van. However, because of its smaller size, the driver couldn’t see around the van to avoid oncoming cars, and conversely, the other cars couldn’t see the sedan until the very last second.

Him-chan utilized this distraction to snap his arm forward, flinging his item at Manuel’s men.

The special sticky grenade landed with a splat on the enemy’s windshield. Him-chan got to see the driver gesticulating frantically at the weapon before—

_BOOM!_

Him-chan ducked back inside as glass shot in all directions. The sedan swerved, turned completely sideways, and flipped onto its side, wheels spinning in the air. Fire and black smoke furled up from the car, crackling savagely.

“There, one down,” Him-chan stated, returning to the passenger seat. The other car was definitely hesitating to follow now, Him-chan was sure.

“Good, I’m done with this madness,” Young-jae announced, then turned left at the intersection, back into the correct lane, and heading away from the destruction they’d just caused.

“Never thought I’d hear you say that, Young-jae,” Him-chan commented.

“Don’t tell anyone, Hyung!”

Him-chan allowed himself a small grin and pulled out his phone.

They drove along for another hundred meters before the sound of screeching tires found them again. Gunshots—in rapid automatic fire this time—rang out, denting the van’s exterior.

“Shit! Hyung, they’ve got a fuckin’ Uzi or something. We better do something fast before they get smart and fuck up our tires.”

Him-chan dialed. “Zelo!” he yelled the moment he heard the other pick up. “I hope you have a plan for us.”

 _“Yeppers! Do you see the blinking red arrow on your screen? Go there! You guys should be close.”_ Him-chan relayed Zelo’s instructions to Young-jae.

Soon, they had turned into a secluded area, three solid walls—the backs of apartment buildings—lay ahead of them.

“Dead end!? What the fuck, Zelo? Why did you tell us to go here?” Young-jae yelled, leaning towards the cell phone angrily.

Zelo ignored him, saying instead, _“Stay inside and be quiet.”_

It did not take long for the remaining black sedan to arrive. Their van was boxed in now; nowhere to go. Him-chan watched the enemy warily from the side mirror.

Four men leapt from the vehicles, guns in hand. One of them did indeed have a submachine gun.

“Show’s over. Get the fuck out of the car and hand over the drugs,” one of the thugs bellowed.

Young-jae tensed beside Him-chan. “They’re just gonna shoot us anyway. This is stupid!”

Suddenly, the doors on the two opposite walls bust open and armored, black-clad men opened fire on the unsuspecting thugs.

Him-chan and Young-jae both immediately slid off the seats, covering their heads as the bullets flew. _Who_ is _this?_ Him-chan’s mind raced. _How could Zelo round up a team so fast?_ Him-chan had not been aware that they had planned for any back-up outside of Dae-hyun. _Unless…armored, black clad men…the CIA?_

A stray bullet shattered the driver side window, sending tempered glass everywhere.

Then the gunshots stopped. Not a sound. Him-chan met Young-jae’s gaze for second, then shifted to his door. He slowly pulled himself back up the seat, cautiously raising his head to see if—

 _BAM!_ A hand slapped his window. Him-chan snapped his gun into position, only to wrench it away just as quickly.

Kim’s face had slid into view, “Ayo!! It’s clear now. Get out!” Kim commanded.

“Mother fucker! Don't do that! I almost blew your head off!” Him- chan declared vehemently.

Kim looked shocked. “Wow, I’ve never heard you curse like that, Him-chan.”

Him-chan glared at her. _Of all the idiotic—she should have announced her presence! I could have shot her, dammit!_

“Shit... I actually forgot this is one of our bases,” Young-jae realized as he exited the van and gazed around at the buildings. Him-chan followed his observations.

Huh, so it was.

Him-chan sighed. He should have seen that, too. Composing himself, he ensured all his weapons were secure, then joined Kim and Young-jae at the back of the van.

“Who are these guys?” Young-jae asked, curious.

“My father’s hired hands,” Kim answered. _Of course._ Him-chan made a mental noted to thank Derek later.

“So how much is all this shit worth?” Kim changed the subject. She had opened both back doors on the van and stood peering at all the crates.

Him-chan picked up one of the fake TNT tubes, inspecting it. “I’m guessing probably about five to six hundred rocks,” he calculated. Something else occurred to him then.

“Why are you here, Kim? Isn't Dae-hyun on back-up duty?"

“People keep asking me that,” Kim mumbled, then shook her head. “No, we couldn’t get a hold of him so I came instead.”

“He still at our underground hideout?” Young-jae clarified, concern on his face.

“He better be, ‘cause he should be keeping an eye on Samantha while she recovers,” Kim replied.

Young-jae’s expression changed, his mouth twisting to side…as if he could guess what Dae-hyun’s situation might be. Kim spoke up before Him-chan did.

“Speaking of Samantha, since I'm here now, and I’ve rescued my boys, I might as well follow you back to the hideout so I could pick her up,” Kim decided.

 _“Sorry Noona, but your job isn't finished yet.”_ That was Zelo’s voice—over Him-chan’s phone.

“Excuse me?” Kim asked, at the same time that Him-chan mused, “Did you just call my cell and remotely activate the speaker phone?”

 _“Yes. Just figured it out. Kim, Yong-guk hyung requested that you lead your father’s men—have them take the van—to another location_ ,” Zelo informed them.

“What? Where to exactly?”

_“Manuel gave us an address. I cross-checked it. Apparently, it’s a separate lodging type of warehouse where they keep abducted people for, well, prostitute training.”_

All three of them blanched at Zelo’s explanation.

“Of course I’ll go, then,” Kim agreed, sighing deeply, “Keep trying to call Dae-hyun, ok Zelo?”

_“I will. Him-chan hyung, he wants you back at the base for Manuel’s interrogation.”_

“I don’t think Kim should go alone,” Him-chan disagreed.

Kim glanced at him over her shoulder, then pointed to the group of men unloading the van. “I won’t be alone, see? Stop worrying. I doubt I’ll have much trouble.”

“You say that…but,” Him-chan, troubled. “Zelo, you’re doing nothing at the moment. Meet up with Kim at the warehouse.”

They all heard Zelo sigh. _“Fine, fine, deprive me of my naptime. I’ll pack up and meet you there, Noona.”_

“Don’t rush yourself. Really. My father’s men are quite capable.”

Him-chan nodded his agreement, satisfied, and the three went about their next tasks.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()


	18. Waking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at the BAP hideaway, Dae-hyun deals with Samantha...without the drugs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GRAPHIC ADULT CONTENT BELOW. GO BACK NOW IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER, OR IF YOU PREFER NOT TO READ SUCH THINGS, SKIP THE PARAGRAPHS INDICATED. THE CHAPTER CAN BE READ WITHOUT IT JUST AS EASILY.

* * *

_B.A.P. Underground Hideout_

The smell of sex hung in the air, heavy and languid, coiling about Dae-hyun’s nose. It was a familiar smell for him, but he found himself much more aware of it than ever.

He lay on the bed, the overstuffed pillows long discarded on the floor, the sheet tangled between his legs as well as the bed’s other occupant.

Sam’s chest rose and fell softly while she slept. The sweat on her skin glistened with the slight movement. She had lulled into post-coital sleep again after their second go at it. Dae-hyun had been awoken with a tongue in his mouth and hands tracing his ribs. Whatever hope he had held that the drugs had worn away after the first time had evaporated in the heat of the woman’s artificially induced ardor.

Dae-hyun was taking this reprieve to catch his breath. He didn’t know when Sam would wake next—he didn’t know how long they’d been in here, to be honest—and whether or not she’d be coherent again when she did. And to be honest with himself, Dae-hyun needed the refractory period. He was not a machine.

Dae-hyun could admit he’d been impressed by Sam’s vitality. Drugged or not, she had been even wilder the second time their bodies joined—even vicious in her intensity. But even as his body had responded to her touches, in his mind, he’d felt sorry for her, too.

This woman was not who Sam was—was not the fiery, yet innocent, friend of Kim’s who had put up with their shenanigans and insisted they call her “Aunty.”

Dae-hyun had seen her dilated pupils, seen that Sam was lost to the pills’ effects. The desperate edge to her movements from the first time had still been present during their second romp.

Even now as Sam stirred, her hand reached out for him blindly, clutching tightly when it found neck, as if he would spirit away and leave her unable to cope with the drugs.

_I guess she’s not done…_

**(WARNING: EXPLICIT SEX SCENES START RIGHT HERE...AGAIN.)**

Sam followed her fingers with her lips, nipping gently at the flesh. It was a thankful change from the hickeys she’d left the second time around.

Dae-hyun held still, even as Sam’s hand moved to his left nipple, circling the darker skin lightly. Perhaps, since she was moving slower now, she’d snap out of it soon. His theory proved wrong when Sam grabbed his hand and laid it on her right breast. Her mouth opened at the touch, and she met his gaze.

Her pupils were still blown wide.

She rolled her hips forward, meeting his, and he felt himself hardening again. Sam smiled knowingly. She moved up to kiss him, her tongue outlining the shape of his mouth, just before she reached down below his waist with her other hand.

Dae-hyun hissed in pleasure as she fondled him, and brushed his thumb over Sam’s nipple in return, feeling goosebumps rising on her forearms.

Those base desires that had been fulfilled by their first two frenzied couples had now given way to unhurried embraces. Sam was trying to draw out the sensations this time, and Dae-hyun went along with it.

If there was any part of Sam that was cognizant of her actions at the moment, Dae-hyun wanted to make sure she remembered the gentle part. Sam was blameless in this after all, just one of many that Manuel’s men had disgustingly debased over the years.

Soon, Sam’s sensual movements became forceful again, dragging her hands down his abs and thighs. Dae-hyun responded in kind, aware of what she liked by now. He grabbed her hips, thumbs stroking towards her inner thighs and her center. Using his teeth, he nipped lightly at her earlobe, blowing softly afterwards. Then he moved his hands up her spine and into her dark tresses, massaging her scalp.

She melted in his arms.

In return, she kissed him thoroughly, biting his lip for good measure, as she returned her attention to his member, wrapping her hand all the way around the shaft. She wound him up easily, the sweat from earlier easing the process. Before Dae-hyun knew it, he was sheathed in her again, the motion eliciting a moan from him.

He opened his eyes to see Sam looking down at him, legs on either side as she moved her hips up and down, sounds of ecstasy falling from her full lips. Dae-hyun matched her thrusts with his own and let her choose the speed. He reached up to cup her breasts, outlining them as they moved together in the most intimate of ways two humans could.

Soon, she was riding him hard. Dae-hyun found himself mesmerized at the pleasure building up in her expression, the way her eyebrows came together and her mouth parted, breaths becoming shallow. He was vaguely aware that his breaths were also coming up short.

God, she felt so good, and the strength of her arms as she leaned on his shoulders only heightened the feeling.

All at once, Sam’s head bowed, her black hair falling forwards. Her whole body tensed as she shuddered through her climax. She fell on top of him, sighing, kissing at his jaw. Dae-hyun let himself go.

**(END GRAPHIC SEX DETAILS HERE.)**

As his release washed over him, setting his nerves ablaze, he breathed out, “Samantha.”

She froze.

Dae-hyun blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head. Something had changed.

Sam sat up, her back straight, her eyes staring forwards at the wall. His tender body part protested the motion, but he kept silent, watching her warily.

She closed her eyes tightly and took in a shaky breath. Exhaled through her mouth. And when her eyes opened, Dae-hyun could see the haze vanishing, her pupils returning to normal size.

Sam met his gaze, expression like that of a person poised to…do something. Probably scream. She was either remembering everything they’d done or was deducing it from their obvious nakedness, because the next second she’d jerked away from him as hard as she could.

Sam rolled herself to the opposite side of the bed, putting as much distance as the bed allowed between them, and curled her legs, facing away from him.

“Sam?” Dae-hyun breathed out again, tentatively this time.

She didn’t answer, refusing to look at him.

The doubts were encroaching on Dae-hyun’s mind again. What if she hated him for not stopping her? What if she was feeling taken advantaged of? But he couldn’t have possibly let her continue maiming herself. She had been suffering—been begging and bleeding—and Dae-hyun could never be so purposefully cruel to a woman.

Seconds passed.

After a prolonged silence, Dae-hyun could see Sam’s shoulders trembling minutely. Sniffles reached his ears. Sam’s hands came up to her face, and the sniffles turned into full-on weeping.

Something broke inside Dae-hyun’s chest and he moved over to her instinctually. He spoke random shushing words of reassurance her ear, and touched her arm. She made no move to accept his concern.

Dae-hyun tried speaking instead. “I don’t blame you for anything, you know. And I won’t tell anyone…what we did…if you don’t want me to.”

Sam just shook her head, her hair sliding over the sheets. Dae-hyun wanted to comb his fingers through it, but refrained. He contemplated turning her around to face him. He would kiss her then, ever so gently, making her understand that he thought no less of her because the drugs had overpowered her senses.

But for once, his talent for saying just the right words was gone. His mouth was dry.

He’d never had to do this before—talk a woman down from the brink of shattering regret. All his previous partners had thoroughly consented (or outright instigated) the sex. There had been some who’d had second thoughts afterwards, of course, and the one girl who had been a virgin and accordingly nervous both before and after they had coupled, but nothing that Dae-hyun couldn’t—and didn’t—soothe away easily.

Nothing like the psychological trauma Sam was experiencing.

Then, Sam slowly leaned forwards, sliding away from his hand. She stood, gathering the sheet around her body protectively. Her hair hid her face from Dae-hyun’s view.

“Dae-hyun…I…” Sam finally looked at him. Her wide eyes took in his naked form still lying on the bed.

Dae-hyun could almost see the memories of the last hours flashing across her eyes, a hint of lust edging back in.

Sam flushed, and stumbled backwards fearfully. A sound of the front door being slammed shot through the bedroom walls. Sam startled and turned, fleeing into the bathroom and locking the door behind her.

Dae-hyun let his outstretched arm drop onto the bed, uncertain what he should do next. He was hurt by her obvious fear, to be completely honest. It was a new feeling for him. The situation was so complicated.

He dressed hurriedly, getting to his feet. After a moment’s deliberation, he removed a spare tee shirt and sweat pants from the dresser and placed it in front of the bathroom door. Sam’s clothes were ruined after her ordeal. She wouldn’t have to endure putting them on again this way. Heaving a stressful sigh, he exited the bedroom, closing the door behind him just as footsteps thumped above him. The guys were back.

“What the hell are you planning to do with me? I don’t know anything!” an irate voice yelled loudly.

And apparently they succeeded in capturing Manuel.

Dae-hyun emerged from the stairwell and entered the living room—if one could call it that; it was an underground collection of rooms that served as a hideout, not a traditional home by any means—to see Jong-up dragging the large man down a different set of stairs that led to the sewer lines.

“Oh, you’ll see,” Yong-guk assured, menacingly, “We’re going to have a fun show to watch tonight.”

“Hyung!” Dae-hyun called out.

“Dae-hyun,” Yong-guk acknowledged, turning around. He eyed him. “What the heck happened to you? Why weren’t you answering Zelo’s calls?”

“I was uh…out getting food,” Dae-hyun quickly lied, keep his face blank. He was famous for letting his appetite rule his head so it was entirely believable. Except that just then his stomach growled.

“Right...’food’...” Yong-guk reiterated. He paused, and Dae-hyun felt like his hyung could read him like a book. Sure enough, Yong-guk smirked. “I’m guessing you aren’t full yet?” Yong-guk laughed then at his own joke and walked off.

 _Well shit, so much for no one knowing…_ Dae-hyun sighed. He should really work on his poker face. It was fine in front of people he didn’t know, but his hyungs could always figure him out. He shrugged off the thought for later. Now it was time to eat; he really was hungry.

A few moments later, Him-chan and Young-jae returned. Him-chan eyed him but ultimately said nothing, opting to join Yong-guk on his way down the stairs. Young-jae, however, grabbed the candy bar he had been munching on and took a bite, plopping himself onto the chair next to Dae-hyun. He purposefully pinned Dae-hyun with a suspicious stare, glancing at his clothes, his face, his hair—it was obvious what signs he was searching for.

Dae-hyun tried to stall. “I was eating that.”

“You did her, didn’t you?” Young-jae accused. Dae-hyun looked at the wall and didn’t answer. Young-jae made a disgruntled noise. “I specifically told you to just leave her in that room! What’s with you, Dae-hyun? I know you like seducing women, but I thought you’d have a bit more, I don’t know, compassion!”

He’d slammed the candy bar on the table with that last word. Dae-hyun swiveled back to glare at his closest friend.

“What would _you_ do? Huh?” Dae-hyun snapped. _Where does he get off, being all high-handed, when he wasn’t here to see her?_ “She was basically going crazy, cutting herself and bashing her head on the wall. If I didn’t stop her, who knows what she would have managed to do to herself!”

Young-jae looked taken aback at his reasoning, but the anger had subsided a bit, his shoulders lowering. Dae-hyun exhaled, studying his friend in return. _Why does he even give a damn?_ Sure, Young-jae had never wanted to harm women, children, or other innocents, but he’d never gone out of his way to worry for them either.

“So,” his friend continued dubiously, “You’re saying that you have to used your body to…distract her from killing herself?”

Dae-hyun frowned, annoyed at having to defend himself, even though he didn’t know why his friend’s accusation affected him so much. “I had no choice, ok? The situation just got really bad. Why are you so upset? If you’re regretting your missed opportunity for the hours I ended up spending with her--” Dae-hyun started.

"H-hours?" Young-jae repeated.

Dae-hyun’s words halted. He hadn’t meant to reveal any details, but Young-jae’s iteration sent streams of memories rushing back. Memories of Sam’s body and the look on her face and the sounds she’d made, the smells and the touches. He couldn’t shove them away.

“Yes! OK?” Dae-hyun felt like he was breathing too fast. “You basically handed me the ‘goods’ yourself so don’t be bitching at me for finishing something you just dumped off!”

Dae-hyun stood up abruptly and walked out of the room, leaving a speechless Young-jae behind. He bounded up the stairs, aiming for the front door—for fresh air. He felt like an asshole for referring to Sam that way. The image of her when he’d had first opened the door—her pained and terrified eyes—wouldn’t leave his mind.

Dae-hyun threw opened the door, rushing into the night air and kept on walking.

Yes, a small part of him did feel guilty, but a larger part just wanted to take Sam into his arms and vow to never let her come to harm again.

_I must be losing my mind._

* * *

 

Hot water streamed from the shower head and pounded Sam’s bare back as she stood, bowed, leaning on tiled wall. She had taken some time to catch her breath after fleeing the bedroom locking the bathroom door. Then, she’d caught sight of herself in the mirror.

Her face was flushed, her eyeliner smeared. Her hair was grimy and damp with sweat.

She’d practically thrown herself in the shower, grabbing the nearest shampoo and worked out all the knots furiously. She forced herself not to panic, not to think, just focusing on one task at a time. After her hair was done, she washed her face, her arms, her nether-parts. Damn, she’d be really sore in the morning.

The flashbacks of the last few hours had returned then, causing her to huddled in on herself. And there she stood in the shower’s torrent, clean, but feeling anything but. The memories replayed and replayed, and Sam was horrified with herself—because a part of her wanted more.

Sam shook her head vigorously.

These feelings—how could she trust them? She had been drugged—flashes—a dim room, a cage, being held down, pills in her mouth, clothes ripping, hands all over…

Somewhere in the back of her mind was a building rage—a burning need to exact revenge on those men. She’d bash their heads in! The anger burst from Sam in an abrupt destruction of the floodgates.

She punched the slick tiles, and then turned to the various soapy products and hurled them, grunting through her teetch with each throw. The bottles banged and tumbled away towards the drain. The soap had fallen some time in her tirade, too, though, and Sam stepped on it, immediately slipping, and finding herself on her butt.

 _Ouch,_ Sam thought. She had caught herself with her elbow, and it throbbed now. But the pain of her fall had cleared her mind.

She sat there, water still pouring over her head, dripping from ends of her hair. She breathed in and out, trying to reaffirm her grip on reality.

 _What could you have done, Sam?_ Her mental voice questioned. _They would have taken you, and you would have let them, once your mind had been completely overwhelmed by the aphrodisiacs._

But those vile men hadn’t had her.

She had been rescued. By Young-jae, who had dragged her back to, well, wherever here was. She hadn’t been aware enough to take any note of her location. She only recalled passing out, only to be woken up by a feverish fire racing through her veins.

She was smart enough to realize that she’d been drugged, but the only solution her frenetic brain could think of at the time was distraction. It had been stupid. Sam traced the healing scab on her hand, and the bruise on her leg, dismayed.

Fortunately, Dae-hyun had been there for her.

Sam remembered him holding her back, restraining her arms and legs as he tried to talk her down from her crazed actions. He had even offered her water!

The craze had morphed into a yearning for the body so close to her. She had caught a whiff of his scent, and it had intoxicated her. The haze had fully taken over, threatening to explode her from the inside out lest she carrying out her lustful urges.

Sam remembered all of it, even if it had felt like she couldn’t control her body, not fully. It was moving as if by someone else’s design. Being dictated by chemical reactions in her brain.

She had enjoyed it, though. Immensely.

The feel of Dae-hyun next to her, moving above her, below her—his smell, his muscled shoulders and toned abs—the feel of him inside her, bringing her to the sweetest sensations.

Several times. _Oh my god, how many times did we…_

Sam calmed, shoving the images away. _The number really doesn’t matter_ , she had to tell herself, _not really._

Dae-hyun had been kind to her. Considerate.

He didn’t have to be, given what type of persona he projected for himself. Sam had thought he’d taken advantage of her particular state.

However, he had let her lead the entire time, and he had stopped immediately when she regained her senses. For all that Dae-hyun had annoyed her before all this, for all his seemingly shallow flirtations and remarks, Dae-hyun was…a decent guy.

Sam sighed. She should talk to him…if she could ever face him again, that is, knowing in her mind what he was like in the most intimate of situations.

It was highly embarrassing. Sam felt raw, vulnerable.

But she owed him. How would she ever repay him for this?

()()()()()()()()

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, my sex scenes could be more detailed. What do you think? More explicit wording, or keep them as is?


	19. Routes of Investigation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The CIA arrive in San Juan. Kim chances a check-in at Le Yacht.

* * *

_San Juan Police Department, Downtown San Juan_

Agent Hampton was not pleased. His plane had landed at Luis Muñoz Marín International Airport, checked in with Director Haversham, and made his way to the San Juan PD with haste, only to learn that Manuel Gonzalez’s headquarters had been attacked around midnight.

They had been too late to catch B.A.P. in the act.

In addition, Agent Casey had just informed him that one of Gonzalez’ warehouses had been broken into as well. There were signs of it being the main lodging for his prostitution ring—rows of beds and locks on the doors—but not a soul had remained.

Had the abducted women taken the chance to break out while Gonzalez was being assailed? If so, how did they know? The man’s HQ was on the outskirts of town, while his warehouse abutted the shoreline, for furtive imports and exports. It was doubtful that they’d have the courage to overwhelm their captors anyway.

“Gonzalez is missing,” Casey reported as he rounded the hallway. They were still inside the police building, the best place to corral these lazy officers and actually get them to do anything. The majority of them had straightened to attention the moment Hampton had flashed his badge. Hopefully their presence would lend some of these less-than-upright men more motivation to reject bribery.

Agent Hampton sighed, furrowing his brow to think.

“Then B.A.P. probably has him.” Hampton was unsure where to go from here. Their first objective had been to arrest Gonzalez for questioning and hopefully lure B.A.P. out. They obviously needed him in order to provoke Rodriguez.

However, B.A.P. had beaten them to Gonzalez, and now had him God only knew where, doing God only knew what. They were T.S.’s mafia hit squad. Hampton sort of felt sorry for the Puerto Rican crime honcho.

“We need to find out where they are,” Hampton spoke, “In the end, we have the same goal as them—find Rodriguez—but they’re ahead of us. We don’t want to miss it again when Rodriguez comes to investigate.”

“If he comes,” Casey pointed out.

“Yes, if.”

“You want me to leak the occurrence to the press? The public could call in any suspicious activity.”

“No,” Hampton decided, “No, the last thing we need is to have hundreds of false leads from a city way too accustomed to criminal activity. Just have the police pair up and search known meet-up locations that Gonzalez has used. B.A.P. most likely commandeered one of his shady dealing spots for their hideout.”

“Will do.” Casey turned to convey the instructions.

Hampton rubbed his chin, then sought out the young man who had been attached to his case.

Eli Kennedy stood by the far wall, his blue eyes glued to the mounted television screen.

“Watching the news, kid?”

Kennedy glanced at him before returning his gaze to the news report playing out. “There was a break-in at the famous yacht charter down by Pier 5.”

“And? It was robbery,” Hampton read, looking up at the headline scrolling across the screen. “Fairly close to the prostitutes’ warehouse, but it occurred early yesterday morning. The yacht charter doesn’t belong to Gonzalez anyway.”

“No, it belongs to a Kim Le,” Agent Kennedy replied.

Hampton blinked, and looked at the screen again, specifically at the building in the background, its entrance encompassed by yellow police tape. Kennedy was right. The Le’s could be housing B.A.P. given their connections to T.S.

“Point,” Hampton conceded, “I’ll contact our undercover agent for more information.”

Kennedy met his gaze then. “Are you gonna tell me who this guy is? I could make contact for you just as well. I’ll tell him to forget the Le’s and find B.A.P. instead.”

“I’ll be the one to give our agent orders, Kennedy. I’ve been in contact for years. There are protocols we use to prevent the agent’s identity from being discovered—God forbid. I’m not about to hand over my job as handler to you in the middle of a delicate mission.”

“Fine, fine. Don’t have a stroke, old man,” Kennedy acquiesced. “You’ve known him a long time. It makes sense.”

Hampton made brushed the comment away with a casual, “Who are you callin’ old?”

“Hey, you call me ‘kid,’ I’ll call you old. Ageism goes both ways you know.” Hampton had to smile at that. Kennedy’s arrogance fed into his borderline disrespect for his superiors, but the kid did know when to back down. Plus, he did good work.

“Good idea on that Le Yacht bit, _kid,_ ” Hampton said with a smirk. “Let’s do our jobs now.”

Kennedy nodded and the both of them got back to work. Hampton had certain instructions to give a secret agent.

* * *

 

_Le Yacht Office, Pier_

Zelo stood by a tree in the deep darkness before dawn watching the crowd clustered around the shore. A large news van with multiple satellite antennae was parked next to the gate to the pier, its crew arrayed adjacent, lights honed in on the news anchor.

Kim and he had finished their rescue operation about fifteen minutes ago. Facing a team of men bedecked in enough weaponry to take on a security team twice their size, plus a scary woman on a righteous mission, Manuel’s men had surrendered without much of a fight.

It had helped that Zelo had arrived with video proof of Manuel being dragged out and thrown into Yong-guk’s trunk. Recording the small clip had been an easy hack, as had hacking into the news feed of the van.

They were recording live anyway, so all Zelo had to do was boot up the output signal running to the broadcast tower. He watched now, on his phone, the breaking bit of news.

_“We are currently standing in front of a crime scene at the famed tourist and celebrity yacht business, Le Yacht. It looks like the culprit left the main office completely ransacked, though only cash from the inner safe was missing. However, the cameras records were deleted, hinting at a larger secret than a common robbery. There also seems to have been a struggle, the signs littering the destroyed lobby. Police reported blood stains on the floor and on the reception counter within the shop, but thankfully, no casualties have been found. This reporter has no information yet on who could have been present. The business had been closed down today, for undisclosed reasons, and the break-in had only been discovered by a customer seeking to return his rental early. As of right now Le Yacht's owner, Ms. Kim Le is nowhere to be found. In the meantime, the location is currently secured for further investigation. More news to come at later time. Back to you in the studio..._

Zelo stopped listening. He sighed. Noona was going to be pissed about this. Derek had alerted them to the public discovery en route, and though Kim was keen on checking on Sam as soon as possible, the business was her responsibility too. She had protocols in place to delete any VIP information if any authorities tried to snoop, but it wouldn’t stand up to any truly skilled IT specialist. With the CIA interested in their doings, Zelo and Kim concluded that they should not leave anything to chance. Namely, the fact that B.A.P. was currently renting a yacht of Kim’s. So here they were.

The building had a backup database in the generators bunker on shore. After Zelo was done scouting here, he’d go log in and erase the sensitive data. Simple. As long as the public didn’t connect Le Yacht to Manuel or B.A.P.

Zelo was about to turn and go when his eyes were drawn to a pacing figure at the back of the crowd. He looked like a local, all tanned skin and dark hair. Young, though still older than Zelo, but the expression on his face was one of worry—a personal connection to what happened here, perhaps?

“SAM??” the man yelled, “ _Perdoname!_ _Hubo una_ _niña llamada_ _Sam_ _aquí_?”

Zelo narrowed his eyes at the name. This…would be…Hector, Zelo recalled, as he combed his memories from the previous week. He’d heard Kim and Sam talking a couple times about the girl’s life outside her job. She’d mentioned this local man once or twice, and apparently he was a good friend of hers who had taken her in. A good-hearted Samaritan.

“Fuck! Let me though! _Tengo que hablar con la policía_!” Yes, definitely a good Samaritan determined not to give up.

A couple of different options ran through Zelo’s mind in seconds. He could leave the guy here, no problem. Friend of Sam’s or not, B.A.P. did not need any more bystanders. However, given his fervent concern, Zelo did not see him giving up his search anytime soon. If Hector alerted the authorities of Sam’s disappearance, they would learn of her employment at Le Yacht and possibly of her escape from Manuel’s men. Young-jae had killed a lot of them, but who knew what had occurred before he managed to rescue her. No, the variables were too many to accurately predict.

Zelo sighed again. He really did not want to take Hector along.

Perhaps he’ll just let Kim decide.

Zelo started walking towards Hector, drawing up the black fur collar of his jacket. If the cameras caught him in the background, they wouldn’t get a glimpse of his whole face.

As the youngest B.A.P. member drew behind Hector, he appraised him critically. Sleeveless shirt, obviously second-hand, cut off cargo shorts and flip flops—the guy looked like he had left his place in a rush.

“Come with me,” Zelo whispered at Hector as he leaned forward. Not making eye contact, Zelo turned around, as if bored with the media and walked back towards the tree line. When there were no footsteps following him, he looked over his shoulder and added, “I know where she is.”

Shock, confusion, and suspicion took over Hector's features. He appraised Zelo in return, eyeing his clothes and Korean face. Hector settled on wary. Apparently, he had judged Zelo untrustworthy. Hector curled his right fist by his side, as if wishing he had a weapon in hand.

 _So he’s aware of me—or at least of B.A.P.,_ Zelo concluded, _Sam probably gabbed to him about us, and unlike her, he is more inclined to suspect the worst…or perhaps he_ knows _of the worst._ The thought would require more pondering. Later.

“I don’t have a gun to your head, or anything,” Zelo stated, _Because it’s still in my pocket,_ he added mentally, before saying aloud, “I’m not forcing you. I’m just offering you the chance to verify her safety. We were actually her rescuers, you know.”

Hector blinked, surprised. Zelo held off his smirk, and turned around once more. As he knew would happen, Hector hurried to catch up to him, curiosity getting the better of him.

The two trudged side by side through the trees, Zelo making his way around the public sidewalks, toward the clearing where Kim had parked her car. Hector remained silent, though his churning thoughts were almost palpable to Zelo. People were too easy to read sometimes.

But what Zelo read from Hector’s body movements, he did not like. The guy walked with his shoulders back, strides long and sure. A confidence exuded from him—one that spoke of maturity beyond his years. His hands were calloused—well-worn from hard labor, Zelo would say, except that his knuckles were rough, too, which meant Hector knew how to fight, if need be.

And yet, he followed Zelo blindly to their location. _An honorable knight-in-shining-armor for Sam…or maybe something more._ Zelo made a mental note to look up Hector’s background when he had more time.

For the moment, they had reached their destination. Kim was leaning on the hood of her Aventator, her arms crossed tightly beneath her chest. The moonlight highlighted her features, and the breeze blew her hair back. Hector seemed to snap back from his brooding the moment he saw Kim.

“You’re Kim? The one with the Lambo, just like Sam said,” Hector ventured. Kim raised her eyebrows.

“Hector right? We finally meet,” Kim smiled disarmingly, “I heard a lot of good things about you from Samantha.”

“Where is she?” He managed to ask calmly, a tight rein on his anger. “It’s 4:00 a.m. I thought she had gone into work and had to stay on overtime or something. But I fell asleep watching TV, only to hear breaking news about the destruction at _your_ business office!” He was pacing restlessly now, glaring at Kim.

Kim glanced at Zelo. He shrugged at her. Sam was her friend. She could deal with whether or not to take her friend’s friend with them.

Kim thought for a moment, and then opened her mouth to speak, “This isn't a good place to talk. Come with us and I'll explain everything on the way, Hector.”

Zelo nodded, accepting the decision. “I’ve got to run back to the bunker and complete my task. I shouldn’t be more than ten--”

“I'm not going anywhere with you people! Just tell me what happened to Samantha!” Hector interrupted.

Kim held up her hands. “You'll get your answer. Just not _here_. Ok? Come now, I don't have all day. The more we wait, the longer Sam’s gonna be scared and alone,” Kim explained.

Zelo almost snorted. From what he was able to deduce of what happened to Sam, she’d probably be fine. Dae-hyun had been there. The signs pointed toward one outcome, given his fellow B.A.P.’s member’s character. Of course, the hyungs would have returned with Manuel by now…. Yong-guk would make sure she stayed out of that particular planned activity though.

Zelo looked back at Hector.

The Puerto Rican’s revulsion for both Kim and Zelo was clear as day, but Zelo knew what his choice would be. Despite his feelings, he’d come with them. He obviously cared too much for Sam— _the signs hint towards a familial bond most likely_ —to try taking his chances with the police. This way was faster.

Finally, Hector nodded and headed towards the passenger door. Kim smiled again, trying to convey a measure of amiability.

Zelo turned and jogged towards the bunker, his fingers pushing buttons on his phone to bring up his necessary programs.

It was a risk, bringing Hector along, but if Kim—who had known Sam much longer than he—did not think he was a danger, then Zelo would go along with it.

Even if Hector turned out to be more than he seemed, Zelo had no doubt B.A.P. could handle it. The guy was severely outnumbered, after all.

()()()()()()()()()()()()


	20. Being the Leader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yong-guk embraces a skill in order to discover wanted information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TORTURE WARNING IN THIS CHAPTER! May be trigger-inducing, depending on your past or your phobias. Proceed with caution.

* * *

_B.A.P. Hideout, Underground, Puerto Rico_

Yong-guk stood alone by the underground waste tunnels. He leaned his body forwards, arms supported on the iron railing. To his right, a steep stairway led down to a cleared concrete area that connected three cylindrical sewer lines. Each tunnel was currently barred by slimy iron rods, the smell of their utility wafting into the dark chamber. Sounds of dripping water echoed on the curved walls.

In the middle, right in Yong-guk's line of view, was a wooden chair with a set of ropes hanging on the side of it. Yong-guk closed his eyes in anticipation of what was to come. He was B.A.P.’s leader. This sort of thing came with the job, and Yong-guk never shied away from it.

He still remembered the moment before his first “information extraction.” T.S.—his benefactor, his mentor—had shown up. At first, Yong-guk had felt irritated, thinking that T.S. didn’t trust him to get the job done, that he had to be babied. However, T.S. had summoned him to a private meeting, and relayed to him what it meant to be a leader, what it took to be B.A.P.’s number one.

 _“I trust you, Yong-guk,”_ T.S. had said, meeting his eyes with an inscrutable expression. Yong-guk had returned the gaze, honored by his statement. The feeling of pride had overwhelmed him at that moment.

 _“So I hope that you trust me,”_ T.S. had continued.

 _“Yes, of course, sir,”_ Yong-guk had replied, bowing slightly. And he did. T.S. had given him and B.A.P. everything.

 _“Then listen to me, Yong-guk. Perhaps someday the rest of the boys will understand what it takes to do what I do—what_ you _will do—but not now. I know you are proficient in the missions I have given you. I know you can shoot a man and be done with it. But this is a different game.”_

_“I will not fail you, sir—“_

_“Call me—just, call me T.S., Yong-guk.”_

_“Yes, s—T.S. You need not worry about my failure. Torture cannot be that difficult.”_

T.S. had peered at him for a while after that, contemplative.

_“Good, I see that coldness in you, Yong-guk. I know it well. Embrace it for this. Embrace the power of it, and indeed, you will not fail me.”_

Yong-guk smirked at the memory.

He had been seventeen, but he hadn’t failed. He had excelled. Some of T.S.’s other hired men had given him a wide berth afterwards, actually. Some looked at him in fear. Yong-guk wasn’t sure exactly what they had seen—he never felt the need to ask them—when he was torturing the prisoner, but the memories of it never bothered him.

He had done what T.S. had said, and embraced the coldness inside. He was immovable there, a wall of purpose. In his mind, it was less torture as it was…punishment methods. They all deserved it anyways. _A bunch of perverts and child molesters._

Suddenly he heard footsteps emerging from the tunnel that led upstairs. He glanced back to see Jong-up and Young-jae dragging the fat Manuel toward him.

“What the fuck is this place? Urg.... what’s that smell?” Manuel questioned as he struggled to loosen his captors’ hold.

No one obliged to answer him, instead, continuing their tasks. Manuel was dragged down the stairs. Honestly, if he’d simply get his fat legs to walk, he wouldn’t be dragged so roughly.

Him-chan drew up beside Yong-guk. “Him-chan,” Yong-guk acknowledged, “Nice driving.”

“Thank you,” Him-chan replied, “but it was actually Young-jae who drove. I got to blow things up.”

“Ah, bet he wasn’t happy with that.”

“When is Young-jae ever happy except when he’s causing fire, blood, and chaos?” Him-chan retorted.

“True.” Yong-guk stretched his arms in front of him, then tilted his head side to side.

Down below, their captive was yelling louder as the two B.A.P. members tied him to the rotten wooden chair.

“What the hell is this? ¡Dios mío! This is filthy!” The fat man complained. “Why are you tying me down in here?”

Yong-guk smirked, as Jong-up and Young-jae came back up the stairs and took silent positions by the exit tunnel. They knew to say nothing starting now. This was Yong-guk’s arena. Despite the humidity, Yong-guk could feel the temperature dropping all of sudden as he fully turned his gaze on Manuel. Time to be the leader.

Yong-guk nodded at Him-chan, who went to the side wall and flicked a switch. A bright solitary light flickered on right above their prisoner, illuminating his ugly visage.

“Getting comfortable down there, Gonzalez?” Yong-guk asked mockingly, trailing his hand on the railing as he began to pace the length of the upper platform.

“Go to hell!” Manuel barked back.

“Oh, not today, I don’t think,” Yong-guk said, “No you, on the other hand, are one sick pedophile that has a room picked out for him by Satan, I’m sure. But maybe we can talk a bit first.”

“You want me ta’ cooperate?” Manuel spat, “After you shot my leg, boy?”

“You wound me, Gonzalez. That was me being merciful. Now tell me about Carlos Rodriguez. I don’t like repeating myself.” Yong-guk turned and pinned the obese criminal with a stare he knew had gone dark and implacable. The cold was in his blood now, and it was strong, like the deepest Artic ice.

“The fuck with you!!”

Yong-guk was unfazed. Casually, he pulled a brown package out of his pocket and unwrapped it. With a flick of his forearm, the hunk of meat landed with a splat on Manuel’s big belly. Slowly, it slid down his gut, leaving a trail of juices, and plopped down by Manuel’s feet.

The man stared down at it, obviously confounded.

“Is this supposed ta’ scare me?” he sneered.’

“No,” Yong-guk answered, smiling slightly. “That isn’t what you should fear.”

“Then wha—“

There came a high shrieking sound from the barred sewage tunnel. The man cut off what he was about to say, and listened, unnerved.

The silence pressed on them for two seconds, then another squeak echoed. Followed by another. And another. And abruptly there were hundreds of squeaks ringing in the darkness.

“What's that noise? _What the fuck is that noise_?” Manuel yelled, panicked.

The shrieking grew louder. From the darkness of the tunnels emerged whiskered noses, followed by plump furry bodies and long hairless tails. The rats were huge, easily the size of a domestic cat. Their yellowed, bucked teeth scraped against the bars as they tried to scurry past towards the fresh morsel at Manuel’s feet. Manuel could feel goosebumps rising on his arms, realizing he was surrounded by ravenous rats from hell. He struggled uselessly in his bonds.

“Alright. Let ‘em out,” Yong-guk instructed looking over to Him-chan. Him-chan pressed a red button by the light switch. With a rumble, the bars began lower from the top down.

“NO!!” Manuel yelled. Him-chan pressed the button again. The bars halted. Yong-guk could tell the man was beginning to picture his gruesome fate by the look in his eyes. Yong-guk relished the desperation.

“Oh? Then I suggest you start talking, Gonzalez.” Yong-guk stated calmly.

Manuel visibly hesitated, trying to regain his composure. “I haven’t met Rodriguez in person in years! I swear. He just sends me money and shit.”

Yong-guk tsked. “Not good enough.” He walked over to relieve Him-chan of his position at the button, and pushed it again. The bars resumed its descent, the rats squeaking louder all the while.

“Bastard! Stop! This is _fun_ to you?” Manuel protested. Yong-guk stopped the bars, tilting his head at the man.

“Definitely. The best part is yet to come.” Yong-guk saw that he would need to explain. “Don’t you realize these rats couldn’t have gotten that big on bits of refuse and discarded food, Gonzalez? Their appetites are far more adapted. All those men and women and children you’ve either killed or starved—where do you think their bodies end up? You’ve bribed the authorities. Missing people reports go nowhere. All those unfound corpses simply end up down here as rat fodder, you see.”

The horror on Manuel’s face was very satisfying.

“Now they want to meet their master.” Yong-guk jammed the button again.

The bars rattled this time as they lowered, the rusted machinery squeaking as loudly as the rats.

“No! Por favor! P-please!” Manuel began to beg, tugging on unyielding ropes, “Don’t let me die like this! Please! PLEASE!” Yong-guk just smirked. It was almost too easy.

“Names, Gonzalez! Hurry and tell us the name of the guy behind your operations. If not Rodriguez, then who comes to check on you?” Him-chan urged, staring hard at the struggling man.

Yong-guk paused the bars again at his second-in-command’s voice, and looked at him askance. Yong-guk knew already that, unlike him, Him-chan had limits on how far he would go when it came to interrogating people. However, Yong-guk was running the operation here and his methods worked. It wasn’t about cruelty. It was about results. _And not failing T.S.’s trust,_ Yong-guk thought.

“You better be quick,” Yong-guk advised the blubbering man, “Otherwise you’ll become dinner for these hungry rats.”

“Yo no sé!!! There are a lot of people who run our stuff!” The man was still hedging. Yong-guk frowned outright now.

“Still trying to be stubborn, huh?” Yong-guk shook his head, portraying his mock disappointment. He pressed the button again. The bars ground downwards, and at three feet from the bottom, the rats were able to surge over them, their size and quantity allowing them to climb over eat other in their frenzy.

Manuel shrieked, trying to scoot backwards, away from the piece of raw meat on the ground, but it was useless. The chair was bolted to the ground.

“Yong-guk.” Him-chan glanced over at his leader. Yong-guk kept his gaze resolutely on Manuel, even as the first two rats reached the meat and starting ripping it apart. He wanted none of Him-chan’s soft-hearted concerns. This was what T.S. told him about. Doing what it takes as the leader. Yong-guk drew the cold feeling in his blood around his mind like a cloak. His vision narrowed to the lone figure in the center of the lower area.

The rats that couldn’t get in a bite at the raw meat were now climbing over each other and onto Manuel’s legs. Inevitably, one hungry rodent didn’t care anymore what it bit as long as it was meat and buried its long teeth into Manuel’s calf.

“Aaaaaahhh!! No! Ok I'll talk!! I'll talk!!!” the man screamed.

“Talk then! We ain’t got all night,” Yong-guk demanded.

One of the rats crawled up higher onto the chair, sniffing at Manuel’s fingers. Manuel cursed in Spanish, wriggling his fingers back and forth. He managed a lucky jab to the creature’s eye and his fell away.

“FINE! FINE! RAFAEL! GO LOOK FOR RAFAEL JUANCALOS! He’s the fence. He traded in swag for a ridiculously high price and manages the smuggling once it’s out of my hands and into other countries.” At this point, the rat had returned while Manuel was talking. It crawled up the back and onto his shoulder. Ignoring the man’s struggles, it bit down into his shoulder, hard. Blood starting dribbling down the back of the chair. “Gyahhhhhh!!!! Oh, Dios mío! It hurts! Por favor!!!”

Yong-guk was displeased. It was getting to the point that this stupid man would start making up shit, either from the pain or the delirium of the situation. But Yong-guk had been hoping to get more out of him. _Damn it!_ The cold flooded his vision.

“PLEASE! I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ELSE!” Manuel cried pitifully.

But Yong-guk was unmoved. _Manuel Gonzalez deserves it, after all. He is a waste on the world._

“LET ME GO!”

The rats grew more aggressive, taking larger bites.

“PLEASE!”

 _Do what it takes. Do not fail._ Yong-guk felt like he was standing at a pinnacle, looking down righteously upon the wretch, watching as he got what was coming to him all along. It was right. It was--

“Yong-guk!”

There was an arm grabbing him. Jolting out of his thoughts, Yong-guk broke off his stare.

“It truly seems this is all we’ll be getting off of this rat,” Him-chan told him. Yong-guk jerked at his proximity. He had forgotten the other guys were here. Glancing back at the other two, he saw Young-jae with his jaw clenched, staring at the floor, fists clenched in front of him. Even Jong-up was looking elsewhere, and he seemed paler.

Yong-guk sighed.

He turned back to the scene unfolding below. The man’s screams were endless now, the rodents swarming over him. A trickle of disgust welled up inside Yong-guk, but he pushed it to the back of his mind before he could discern whether it was directed at his victim or at himself.

Drawing his Kimber, he clicked off the safety in one movement, aimed, and shot the man in the head. The corpse’s head lulled backwards, unseeing eyes staring up at the light.

For a moment, the only sounds were the rats.

“The amount of information was pathetic,” Yong-guk voiced, irked.

Him-chan heaved a sigh, though he tried to make it seem nonchalant. He reached across Yong-guk and flipped off the light, leaving the gruesome sight swallowed in darkness. Yong-guk stared at nothing for a second longer, then turned looked at his fellow B.A.P. members. The glow from the upper stairwell sconce gave him enough light to see their faces. Both of the younger members avoided his gaze, but otherwise did not say or show any reaction.

Yong-guk knew Jong-up would be fine. He’d probably forget all about it soon enough. He wasn’t one to dwell on deep thoughts. Young-jae, however, might be more affected by it. Of course, he knew what Yong-guk could and would do in these situations, but Yong-guk wasn’t sure he’d actually seen it happen before. At least, not like this—with carnivorous rats and not punches or knives, or the other regular weapons. Perhaps he needed to talk to Young-jae. The younger man joined B.A.P. last all those years ago, so Yong-guk wasn’t as close to him as the others. He was a happy person, for the most part, regardless of his querulous antics.

“He did mention other countries.” Him-chan pointed out, breaking the silence. “Even if Rodriguez and Rafael are dealing with smaller gangs to keep under the radar, international smuggling will always have to be cleared with the faction in power.”

Yong-guk nodded. “And we have yet to call in any favors in our search for Rodriguez thus far. Perhaps now is the time to contact them.” Yong-guk pondered those he could call or meet with. The list was long, but it depended a lot on whether they were currently at odds with T.S. or if T.S. was manipulating them or appeasing them at the moment. He’d have to figure that out later, after further investigation on Rafael.

“Contact Zelo and tell him to start digging up information about Rafael’s whereabouts,” Him-chan instructed Jong-up. He nodded, pulling out his phone.

As the group turned to walk up the stairs, Young-jae—who was first to reach the doorway—froze, looking up.

“What is it?” Him-chan asked. Yong-guk sped up, coming to a stop beside Young-jae.

Sitting on the last few stairs, was Sam.

She had witnessed the whole scene. Her eyes were wide opened, filled with fear, her mouth drawn back in disgust as she looked at the four of them. _Shit,_ Yong-guk thought. He couldn’t bear distressed women. Maybe it was from comforting Kim during her times in need, he didn’t know for sure.

“Samantha,” Yong-guk spoke sharply as he neared her, “What are you doing here? Where the hell is Dae-hyun?” Sam just stared at him. “It’s…so you saw the whole thing?” Yong-guk tried awkwardly, reaching out a hand. He was not happy at all to find the girl here, but for Kim’s sake, perhaps he should be gentle.

Sam jerked back. She looked from his hand to his face, and at that moment, the tears began to form. “W...what are you...?”

Her words shook him a bit, but Yong-guk didn’t reply. What could he say? He was doing whatever it took. He had to believe in it. Sam, as an innocent, wouldn’t understand that.

Finally, Young-jae was the one who pushed forwards and kneeled down by the shaking woman. “Noona, shh,” he consoled, “Let’s just go upstairs, for a start, ok?”

She met Young-jae’s eyes, then looked down. Nevertheless, she nodded, taking his arm as he helped her up.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()


	21. The Next Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What will BAP do with Samantha now, when ditching her no longer seems to be an option? Plus, Dae-hyun stumbles upon some stranglers. Yong-guk comes up with a plan.

* * *

_B.A.P.’s Hideout, San Juan, Puerto Rico_

Sam followed Young-jae meekly as they all made their way up the stairs and through the door, closing it behind them, shutting the putrid smell of the sewer away. Another set of stairs took them back into the main room of the hideout.

Young-jae slowly helped Sam settle into one of the couches. She shied away from him uncertainly against one corner of the seat.

“Take her to the yacht with you by night fall,” Yong-guk ordered brusquely as he fetched himself a drink.

“No,” Sam found herself saying instantly. She bit her lip, afraid of their reaction, but when none of them pointed a gun at her, she continued, “I-I won’t go anywhere with you people...” Sam voiced.

Young-jae’s concerned face leaned closer, taking up her field of vision. Even though her head told her to keep up her guard, Sam inwardly relaxed a bit. Young-jae had rescued her, after all, and focusing on his face was better than seeing Yong-guk’s hardened glare.

“You can’t stay here. It isn’t secure. Even we are planning to go soon. If you go with us to our yacht, Noona, Kim will pick you up from there, ok?” Young-jae explained.

Sam hesitated. Talking to Kim right now sounded wonderful. Ever since that terrifying morning of her kidnapping from _Le Yacht,_ her life had been not only derailed but practically ripped off the tracks and dumped in a typhoon. _Seriously, what the hell am I supposed to do?!_ Sam thought.

Sam closed her eyes and breathed deeply, forcing her thoughts in order.

Right. Get away from Yong-guk. Talk to Kim. Stay safe. Couldn’t be that hard.

“All right,” she finally answered, “I’ll go.”

Young-jae gave her a brilliant smile in return. Sam looked down at her hands, sighing. Regardless of Young-jae’s actions, how could she have said no? She would’t have been able to fight them all. And she still wasn’t at all certain of Yong-guk’s state of mind. He had been completely heartless while torturing that man, and now looked annoyed, if nothing else. She tried to peek at him through her hair.

He and Him-chan were sharing a glance, as if communicating silently. Yong-guk finally nodded, and set down his glass.

“Good,” he said, the tension of the moment dissipating now that the decision of what to do with her was made. “Jong-up. Him-chan. You know the plan. Go on ahead.”

Him-chan hummed in agreement and gestured to Jong-up. As the two left, Him-chan threw Sam a backwards glance, but he said nothing.

Sam looked once more at B.A.P.’s leader.

“What about you, boss?” Young-jae asked, all calm and light-hearted now. Sam wished she could so easily switch emotions.

“I have an errand,” Yong-guk responded. He circled the couch, gathering a set of keys and a jacket.

“With whom?” the younger man inquired.

“Boss people, Young-jae. Nothing fun, don’t worry,” Yong-guk smirked at him. Sam stared uncomprehendingly between the two men. One moment she was scared they were going to kill her for witnessing their activities. Then next moment, she felt like it was just another day at _Le Yacht,_ watching them bickering in front of her desk. It was surreal.

“Okay then. We’ll just chill here until nightfall.” Young-jae lay back on the cushions, crossing his arms behind his head, the picture of nonchalant.

Yong-guk stepped toward the door, then paused, “Oh, by the way, where’s Dae-hyun?”

Sam started at the mention of Dae-hyun’s name. She quickly looked down again, hoping they ciuldn’t see her blushing.

“Oh…er…” Sam heard Young-jae stuttering, “He…kinda…ran off.” She could practically hear the shrug in his voice.

“Why?” Yong-guk queried. Too innocently. Damn him. By his tone, he obviously knew damn well why.

“Ummm…well, because of what happened with…” Young-jae jumbled on.

Sam blushed even deeper. No doubt Young-jae was making retarded gestures at her, attempting to convey whatever Dae-hyun had told him had happened.

Thankfully, the sound of a phone vibrating interrupted any actual attempts at words. Yong-guk dug out his cell phone and glanced at the screen.

“Ah, Dae-hyun!”

 _Oh my god, forget getting shot, I’m gonna die of embarrassment._ Sam thought morosely.

“Yea, Dae-hyun, hey, we were just talking about you, _Dae-hyun_ ” Sam risked a look at Yong-guk. He kept talking. “Yea, some _very_ interesting things, in fact, Dae-hyun…”

Sam averted her gaze. Unfortunately, this brought her eyes to meet Young-jae. He had the most ridiculous expression his face. Lips twisted to the side, half guilty and half enjoyment. He probably thought this was funny as hell.

“No, no. I’m leaving her with Young-jae. I’m sure they’ll…get along,” Yong-guk insinuated. Young-jae’s grin immediately dropped in dismay.

“Hyung—“

“Now, where the hell are you?” Yong-guk spoke, falling back into a serious tone, as he opened the door with one foot. He waved off-handedly to Sam and Young-jae as he listened to Dae-hyun’s reply, and left.

The door closed with quiet schnict.

The two people leftover sat in awkward silence. Sam shifted uncomfortably. No way was she going to discuss what happened between her and Dae-hyun now.

Finally, Young-jae simply stood up and strode toward the far wall. One push of a button made a wooden panel slide away to reveal a black monitor. Small dots lit up, blinking slowly as they moved. Sam was pretty sure it was a map of some kind.

“Well, Noona, we still have some time from now until night falls. You should get some rest,” Young-jae commented looking over to Sam.

“I don't think I can sleep after witnessing something like that,” Sam answered truthfully, her stomach turning again.

“Oh, ok...well, I guess you should have had enough “rest” with Dae-hyun already,” Youngjae laughed.

“Don’t you dare!” Sam chucked a pillow at him, which he dodged nimbly. She stood up menacingly, fist raised, only half-serious.

“Okay, okay! Don’t hit me, Noona!”

Sam huffed. She was relieved Yong-guk was gone, but without his leader around, Young-jae could be insufferable. Regardless, his immature attitude set her at ease, so she supposed she could humor the guy.

“Just behave, Young-jae,” she warned half-heartedly.

Young-jae peered at her steadily. He turned off the monitor and walked back over to her, sitting carefully at one end of the sofa.

“Well…for what it’s worth, or whatever, you shouldn’t have had to see that, Noona.”

Sam looked at him in surprise. “That’s nice of you to say, Young-jae, but…”

“But what?’

“But…you…Yong-guk…tortured that man. What those rats did to him. And you all just watched it happened!” she knew her voice had risen by the end of her outburst, but the images would never leave her mind. It was horrible, and Sam couldn’t understand how Young-jae could just brush it off.

“I mean, I knew you guys are all part of a gang, or whatever, but _this_? This is…is,” Sam racked her mind or the right word, hands twisting nervously in her hair. She ended in a whisper. “It’s inhuman.”

This time, Young-jae was the one to avert his gaze. His face took on a serious expression that looked foreign with his punk-rock attire and dangly earrings. When he spoke, his eyes seemed far off, reminiscing on some memory Sam could not see.

“What if I told you that the man you saw us kill earlier was the reason why you were brought here in the first place? Would that make you feel better?” Young-jae said, turning his chair to face Sam.

“What could he have done that made him deserve a death like that?” Sam protested, confused.

Young-jae paused, scratching his head.

“Manuel Gonzalez,” Young-jae began, exhaling. Sam tensed at the name. _That man was Gonzalez?!_ Oblivious to Sam’s realization, Young-jae continued, “He's wanted for kidnapping and smuggling young girls for prostitution in 103 countries. In San Juan alone, he’s the boss who owns Sugar Drops, the sluthouses, and drug trafficking, blah, blah, blah, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” Sam acknowledged, barely audible. Living in San Juan for a year had acquainted Sam to much of the undergoings of the city. Having nothing to start out with usually did that to a person. The more she had discovered about Gonzalez and the men that had kidnapped her and almost sold her into prostitution, the more grateful Sam had been to have Hector.

 _So that man is…dead now._ Sam couldn’t lie to herself in this instance; part of her was very glad he was gone. Did that make her a hypocrite?

Young-jae went on, unaware of Sam’s worries. “The bounty on his head is enough for anyone to buy a private island. Of course this guy has lots of privately owned islands. Well, I mean, he _had_ them. He’s dead now, so they’ll soon belong to us,” Young-jae announced glibly.

Sam just stared at him.

“Did I mentioned he was also a sadist and a pedophile? He was behind the mysterious disappearance, rape, and death of many young children. Most were ten or younger...” Young-jae continued.

“OK! Ok, stop! I don't want to hear anymore,” Sam interrupted, horrified. Young-jae relented, looking solemn once more.

“Yeah... So you see, getting shot was actually a light punishment for him.” Young-jae lightly patted her shoulder, then stood.

Sam sat still in her seat, her thoughts churning. Young-jae was right in a way. Knowing the man’s past did make what she saw slightly more palatable if she was brutally honest with herself. However, a voice in her head kept repeating, _But, but, but…it_ should _be wrong. It should be._ Sam closed her eyes, and tried to ignore it.

* * *

 

Yong-guk turned up the music volume on the dash of his Veyron to ear-splitting as he drove. He stared straight ahead at the road, though his eyes were unfocused. Again, the look of horror in Sam’s eyes flashed through his mind. It was one thing, he had realized, to see it in the scumbag who deserved it and another thing entirely to see it in someone who had nothing to do with this whole situation.

Shaking his head, Yong-guk jabbed the radio’s power button to turn it off. It was failing to distract him anyway. Besides, the car dealership was up ahead, if the GPS on his phone was correct.

Ten minutes later, Yong-guk was walking up the drive, shoving his hands into his pockets as he did so. With a shrug, he donned his usual B.A.P. arrogance like a well-worn coat. He was the leader of T.S.’s number one hit squad. He had to act like it.

‘Cause it was true.

And with that, the smirk formed easily on his lips, just as he entered and greeted the first salesman he saw with a nonchalant nod.

“You're ten minutes late. Thought you weren't gonna come,” the guy said, handing over a set of keys to Yong-guk.

“Plans needed to be tweaked, that’s all,” Yong-guk answered, “Now, can I see them?”

“Of course, come this way.” The two men walked to the back of the shop where four black Mercedes-Benz GLK SUVs were parked.

“Excellent!” Yong-guk smiled with satisfaction.

“You just had to go for the most luxurious rides didn't you?” a voice called out.

Turning, Yong-guk watched Derek strolling out from the body shop doorway. He grinned at him.

“Heh, it's not my style to go all ghetto. You know that,” Yong-guk joked as he reached over to shake hands with Derek.

“I do, if T.S.’s complaints about your budget are to be believed,” was Derek’s retort. They both knew, however, that T.S. never denied the monetary requests anyhow.

“Ah, well, luckily, we have ways to make easy money,” Yong-guk stated. He looked sideways at the sales attendant, who lingered nearby. Derek gestured towards him, dismissing him with a nod.

Now alone, Derek withdrew a slim case, the size of a license plate, from his inner jacket pocket and held it out to the other man.

“How did the op go?” Derek asked, as Yong-guk took the case and slid it into his own pocket.

“Mission completed, as you well know. I’m certain you talked to Kim already.”

“I did,” Derek smiled, then nodded toward the exchanged item seriously, “Don’t lose that.”

“Of course I won’t,” Yong-guk acknowledged. “Now, we just gotta tie up some loose ends that Gonzalez left behind.”

“Oh?”

“Nothing we can’t handle,” Yong-guk shrugged, turning towards the cars.

As he walked away, he couldn’t help but add, over his shoulder, “I don’t know if Kim will be okay with it though.”

* * *

 

Dae-hyun grumbled to himself as he sped-walked down the alleyway. Stupid plan changes. How had taking a walk outside to clear his head turn into a baiting mission? He had been looking forward to returning to the yacht, taking a long, hot bath, and sailing peacefully to a northern dock, then driving to the safe house. Instead, he was walking down a dark street, listening intently for the telltale sound of following footsteps.

Several pairs of footsteps echoed after him. _Good_.

As he walked, Dae-hyun remembered the events that led up to his phone call to Yong-guk. He had been worrying about Sam, clear air or not, when he had abruptly knocked shoulders with a burly, tattooed man rounding a corner.

Dae-hyun had been about to apologize when a muscled arm had come hurling towards his face, fist clenched. Luckily, he’d saved himself a bruise by dodging. The man had pulled out a knife then, and all thoughts of Sam had fled.

The fight had been short. Although the man had been several times Dae-hyun’s weight in muscle, he’d been too slow to match Dae-hyun’s speed. After two more dodges, Dae-hyun managed to connect a vicious roundhouse to the man’s temple. He went down heavily, cursing in Spanish.

Dae-hyun had quickly stomped on his assailant’s hand, grabbing the dropped knife. With one sharp motion, he jabbed backwards and upwards with his right hand, lodging the knife hilt-deep under the man’s chin. The attacker died with a surprised expression pasted on his features.

Dae-hyun had immediately retreated into a shadowed alcove, and rightly so, because soon the sound of voices had drifted to his ears. The thug had not been alone.

 _Shit._ Dae-hyun thought, _There goes the hope of that guy being a random drunk._

“ _Estoy muy seguro que fue asi_ ,” a gruff voice spoke nearby.

“ _Yo tambien_.”

“ _Callate!_ These _hijos de putas_ kidnapped the Boss. We gonna sneak up on them and shoot the fuck outta them.”

That last voice had sounded rather familiar… _oh no, it can’t be…_ Dae-hyun peered around the corner.

Just as he’d thought, the voice had belonged to the lanky Diego from Sugar Drops. Which meant that Manuel’s goons were on B.A.P.’s trail.

Dae-hyun had retreated from the area, then called his hyung. Yong-guk had teased him mercilessly about Sam, who was probably present for the call—and Young-jae better not be saying shit about him right now while he was with her—but Yong-guk had thankfully moved on from the subject once Dae-hyun mentioned Gonzalez’s men.

_“Hmm, well, perhaps we could make this a good thing,” Yong-guk said through the phone._

_“How so, Hyung?”_

_“We hadn’t thought that they were loyal enough to follow us after we kidnapped their wretched boss, but if they insist, we’ll have to get rid of them.” Yong-guk’s voice took on a calculating tone._

_“There are a lot of them,” Dae-hyun reminded him._

_“No problem, not for what I’ve got planned,” Yong-guk replied._

_Dae-hyun sighed, “Are we going to like this plan?”_

_“Don’t worry, Dae-hyun. I’ll call the others. Him-chan and Jong-up will be the ones who have to take a detour on their way to the yacht, a little extra work, but it shouldn’t take too long to acquire the necessary items. Now you? You just need to keep walking.”_

_“Sooo…you_ want _them to follow me?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“But…there’s that Diego guy heading the group. What if he recognizes me?” Dae-hyun queried._

_“Then you seduce him,” came the prompt retort._

_Dae-hyun blanched. “No!”_

_Yong-guk laughed, “Just kidding, Dae-hyun. Just let them trail you to the yacht. Don’t go back to the hideout. Young-jae will clean everything up there, seal the entrance, and take care of Sam.”_

_“Fine, fine. I’m on it. Just tell me how we’re gonna kill these guys.”_

So now there was a new plan. Yong-guk was excellent at providing alternate strategies with the slightest complications, but even this plan was crazier than normal. Dae-hyun was going to stay far, far away from Kim after this.

In the meantime, however, he had to focus on getting these goons to follow him without actually letting them know that _he_ knew they were there. Hopefully, he’d succeed without having to actually talk to Diego or something.

 _Just…ugh!_ Dae-hyun thought.


	22. Sunreef Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yong-guk's plan comes to fruition. Young-jae does not like it very much.

* * *

Sam and Young-jae stepped abroad the Sunreef yacht together. The sun had set about half an hour ago, and blue-green LEDs were lit around the deck, highlighting the gleam of the matte finish. Before Sam had any time to admire more of the scenic milieu, six girls came gallivanting forwards at them. They rushed right passed her and immediately clung to Young-jae with excited exclamations.

“OMG, Young-jae! Where have you been?”

“Are the others with you?”

“We’ve been so worried!” The girls gushed, all concern and anticipation.

Sam recognized them as the same tall, tanned-skin girls that the guys had gathered to them on the day they first rented the yacht. The group of young women wore nothing but bikinis and towels wrapped around their waists. No doubt, the average person would call them exotic and attractive.

“Hey, babies. What you got for me?” Young-jae asked in delight. They all started talking at once, giving both updates and half-hearted complaints. Sam rolled her eyes and quickly made her way to the aft deck. Beauties or not, she couldn’t just stand there and watch them gab and flirt. Besides, she had a lot to contemplate.

The events of the past forty-eight hours unfolded in her mind as she slumped into a suede armchair, facing the water. She exhaled slowly, reaching fingers up to massage her temples. An abrupt gurgle and humming vibration signaled the start of the main engines. The Sunreef drifted farther from the shore.

Sam wondered with some trepidation what would be happing to her now. When would Kim come to pick her up? And, crap, what about Hector? He must’ve been so worried. And of course, there was Dae-hyun. _Oh man, what have I gotten myself into?_

The sputtering sound of a jet ski suddenly rounding yacht reached her ears. Sam stood warily. Who knew if this person was friend or foe? In the dim twilight, Sam watched silently as the shadow of a figure dismounted the jet ski and leaped lithely over the aft railing.

She was about to turn and run for Young-jae, but the figure advanced and his face entered the light.

It was Dae-hyun. Her heart stuttered.

“Sam!” he exclaimed, as if surprised to see her there. A flicker of some other emotion crossed his face, but Sam had no time to analyze it. Dae-hyun immediately stepped forward and grabbed her wrist, pulling her inside the cabin area.

The motion spurred her to speak, “Hey! Wh--”

“Get inside!” The urgency in his voice halted her protest. _Oh no... What now?_ she wondered. Honestly, at this point, Sam just wanted to get out of all of this alive.

* * *

 

Dae-hyun was incredibly tired of plans not going how they were supposed to.

“Stay here,” he instructed Sam quickly, setting her down on one of the dining chairs.

Sam looked about to question him, but after a moment, refrained and nodded obligingly. Resisting the urge to reach out to comfort her, Dae-hyun turned and rushed through the cabin, up the stairs, towards the bow. Bursting through the door to the upper deck, Dae-hyun quickly zeroed his gaze onto his fellow B.A.P. member.

“Young-jae!” he knew his voice sounded frantic, but the situation seriously called for it. “What the hell is Sam doing here?!”

The gaggle of girls hanging onto Young-jae all swiveled their gaze to him.

“Dae-hyun!!” one of them greeted with a sparkling smile. Dae-hyun had no time for this right now. He speared his gaze at his friend. Young-jae peered at him in return, raising his eyebrows. He truly looked nonplussed to Yong-guk’s new orders.

A pause. Then, “I missed something, didn’t I?” Young-jae dead-panned. _Yep. Completely clueless. Wonderful._

Dae-hyun sighed, “I take it Hyung didn’t call you?”

“Er, no.”

Dae-hyun decided wasting time figuring out the miscommunication was not priority at this moment and moved on. “Change of plans. Big changes.”

“Okay, fill me in.” Young-jae prompted. Dae-hyun opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by a high-pitched scream.

Coming from the cabin.

“Fuck! They’re here!” Dae-hyun twisted around, adrenaline pumping. He heard Young-jae cursing as well, but his friend followed without further questions.

Entering the cabin, gun cocked, Dae-hyun’s eyes scanned the luxurious living room. Silhouetted in the faint lights of the shoreline shining through the window, stood Sam. Behind her, one hand wrenched savagely in her hair and the other holding a gun to her temple, was Diego.

Dae-hyun froze.

Young-jae barreled in the door next, his own gun held aloft. The girls’ heels clacked loudly on the floor as they also came to halt behind the two B.A.P. men.

Diego gave Sam’s hair a vicious yank. “Drop it!” He demanded as Sam yelled out. Her face scrunched up in pain. Dae-hyun could feel his blood pump faster and he pinned Diego with the most hateful glare he could muster.

* * *

 

Several feet from the newly hijacked yacht, Him-chan and Jong-up sat aboard a large motor boat floating softly in the inky water. The propeller had long been shut down, of course, to maintain some stealth. Him-chan surveyed the movements of the yacht’s occupants with a critical eye. Things were going to be a bit complicated.

Looking to the side, he could make out Jong-up in the rapidly descending gloom as the younger man stowed the oars. Both of them were dressed similarly in black diving suits. With a nod towards Jong-up, Him-chan slipped on his flippers. Once they were both ready to go underwater, Him-chan grabbed the two carefully wrapped packages they had picked up previously, at Yong-guk’s command. Each was the size of a brick. Jong-up took the other two.

Him-chan donned his diving mask and held up his free hand, three fingers outstretched and counting down. They timed their backwards fall into the water simultaneously to either side of boat to avoid capsizing the small vessel, and kicked swiftly towards the submerged keel of the Sunreef. 

* * *

Diego Blasi was a man unused to events spinning out of his control. When Manuel had been captured, he was faced with not only his failure to keep his boss’s safety, but also his own. Surely that Rafael psycho would skin him now for this fiasco. He had to fix it. He had to find Manuel, and kill these Asian bastards.

Especially that fucker standing right in front—the guy who had run out on him at Sugar Drops. On his birthday.

He would pay the most. And if Diego got to kill this girl—who, by the look on the guy’s face, meant something to him—all the more satisfying.

The atmosphere on the yacht rolled with tension. Diego kept a firm grip on the girl’s hair. Wisely, she didn’t thrash, not that it’d do her much good. She looked like a weak little lamb to him. He could crush her easily, but he needed to use her as leverage at the moment.

The three men stood unmoving. One of the sluts behind the bastards started edging towards the door.

“Don’t move,” Diego warned, “Every one of you stay here, and drop your guns. I said, _drop it_!!” Because he could, he dug his gun harder into his captive’s head. She whimpered. It was like music to his ears and he grinned. He liked being in control.

“Dae-hyun! We should probably back down…” the punk kid advised. _So the bastard’s name is Dae-hyun,_ Diego thought.

“You should listen to your friend, Romeo,” Diego sneered at him.

Dae-hyun glared at him some more, then reluctantly lowered his gun to the floor. His team member did the same. Satisfied, Diego laughed outright.

“ _Bien! Muchachos!”_ Diego called to his underlings, “ _Los sujete_!”

Ten of his men surged in from the aft deck, where they had all snuck aboard. After a bit of jostling, they had the six women huddled together on the couch fearfully, and both Dae-hyun and the punk physically secured with their arms twisted behind their backs.

Diego also had two guards hovering near him and four others patrolling the rest of the yacht. Diego bathed in the feeling. He’d succeed now. He was sure of it.

* * *

 

Him-chan broke the surface of the water with barely a sound, inhaling sweet air after holding his breath for so long. Jong-up soon joined him, giving him a thumbs up. Good. The packages were all secured and ready to go, which meant they had to get aboard. Now.

B.A.P.’s second-in-command sighed to himself mentally. Yong-guk’s plans sometimes gave him grey hairs. And the jerk wasn’t even here. He was off arranging transportation. Yong-guk better arrive on time.

Together, he and Jong-up swam to the bow. A ladder built into the side of the yacht provided them easy access to the deck. Once on board, Him-chan unbuckled the waterproof satchel at his side and withdrew his pair of SIG P226’s . He passed one to Jong-up, who checked and cocked it expertly.

“You take the port side. I’ve got starboard,” Him-chan whispered, “Don’t shoot until we get closer to them. I saw Young-jae on board earlier, which means he didn’t get updated. I’ll handle it if there’s a hostage situation.”

Jong-up merely nodded and headed swiftly to the left. Him-chan slid his gun into his boot for the moment and the headed right.

Two steps into the darkness enveloping this side of the yacht took him straight into the path of an armed goon of Gonzalez’s. He was busy smoking, though, so Him-chan simply waited for him to exhale the smoke. Vision obscured, the man never saw Him-chan’s heel as it slammed up under his chin. He choked, unable to even yell out in pain with such a blow to the trachea.

 _Know the best spot to hit, and wield the speed to get there._ His sensei’s words drifted through his mind as he smirked down at his enemy. Jong-up may be the strongest, but Him-chan could beat him (well, on a good day) with his speed alone.

Another blow to the man’s temple rendered him unconscious, and Him-chan moved on to greet the next guy to get in B.A.P’s way.

* * *

 

Surveying the faces of his captives, Diego smirked. “You think you’re clever, don’t you? But in the end you’re still just a bunch of kids.” He shoved the girl over to one of his men and sauntered over to Dae-hyun.

“Even if you do look like a tasty morsel,” he murmured lasciviously into Dae-hyun’s ear, “Perhaps, if you let me find out just how tasty, I could forgive you for leaving me all disappointed at the club, you know.”

Dae-hyun jerked away, a sneer on his face. “Figures you’d be just like your boss,” he retorted, “Getting all hot and bothered for the kiddies. Sicko.”

Rage hazed Diego’s vision. How dare this foreign brat taunt him like this? _Doesn’t he know when he’s beat?!_ Diego seized the man’s shirt with his left fist, shaking him once, roughly.

“Where is Manuel?” he snarled.

“Rats' dinner,” Dae-hyun replied scornfully.

Diego rewarded the answer with a growl. _Insolent fucker,_ He thought, as he swung his right arm forward viciously. The thud of his punch landing on the other’s cheek made one of the sluts wail I dismay, but Diego only smiled, and carried on.

* * *

 

Him-chan winced in sympathy as he witnessed Dae-hyun’s abuse. They all probably owed him an apology for making him flirt with that Diego character. The Puerto Rican could certainly hold a grudge.

However much Him-chan wanted to help Dae-hyun at the moment, though, his first priority was the hostage. Dae-hyun was tougher than he looked. He’d be fine.

 _Now how to get Samantha…_ Him-chan ducked his head down below the level of the deck again, carefully reaching for his next hand hold. The Sunreef Trimaran did not make scaling around the outside edge an easy task. There were no footholds so he hung from the side with pure arm muscle. Slip and it’d be back into the water for him.

Him-chan was considering his options when Diego ceased his punching.

“You hit like a girl,” Dae-hyun spat. Clearly, he had been hanging around with Young-jae too long, in Him-chan’s opinion. He was getting good at saying just the right thing to aggravate someone’s nerves.

“Ha!” Diego barked, “You think you’re tough. And maybe you are. But,” he reached behind him and pulled a jagged knife from his waistband, “I bet your girl isn’t.”

Him-chan glanced back up to see Dae-hyun’s eyes widen in alarm as Diego turned around and strode back towards Samantha. He pulled the poor girl by her throat from his henchman. Sam’s hands scrambled at Diego’s grip on her, as she croaked, “Let me go!”

“Sam!” Dae-hyun’s anxious voice echoed over the water. Diego and Manuel’s men laughed disparagingly at their distress.

Diego dragged Sam to the railing along the yacht’s aft edge. He pressed her back into the metal. Then, letting go of her neck, he slid his hand to her chest...and shoved her backwards. Sam yelped as she started falling, but her motion abruptly halted. Diego had grabbed her shirt. He now held her suspended, extended out over the railing and the water beyond. If he let go, she’d surely fall.

“Did you know Puerto Rican waters are infested with sharks?” Diego’s voice taunted.

Him-chan hurried to get a move on. His hands ached, but they held his weight nonetheless.

Luckily, once he got into position under Sam, he could stand on the bottom ledge. From there, as long as things went well, he’d be able to rescue her, the other girls, plus Dae-hyun and Young-jae in no time.

Because soon, they’d _run out_ of time.

* * *

 

Dae-hyun knew yelling at Diego to leave Sam alone would have little to no effect. Instead, he wrenched himself sideways, trying to free himself from the two burly men’s grasps. No luck.

“Let's have a shark feeding frenzy tonight, shall we?” Diego baited. He held his knife out towards Sam, resting the sharp edge of the weapon precariously by her cheek. He clearly intended to cut her and lure the sharks with drops of her blood.

“Leave her alone!” Apparently Young-jae decided to try yelling anyway. Dae-hyun’s gaze shifted over to him, as did Diego’s.

“Then start talking, you earring-wearing punk, or I’ll bleed this _puja_ dry, drop her to the sharks, and do the same to each and every one of those other sluts sitting over there.” Diego looked like he’d actually enjoy doing just what he’d threatened.

Young-jae spat in Diego’s direction in response.

“No? What about you, _Dae-hyun_?” Dae-hyun hated the way the man uttered his name. The gleam of his gold teeth made it even more grotesque.

“I already told you what happened to your disgusting boss, Diego,” Dae-hyun answered, while he mentally struggled to find a solution.

“And _I_ think you’re just buying time to—“

Suddenly, a dark-clad body came flipping over the aft railing, feet over head, one boot nailing Diego’s head with a solid whump. The man lurched forwards, falling flat on his teeth. The motion pulled Sam back over the railing—probably just as Him-chan had planned—and he immediately pushed Sam away from Diego, then drew his gun. He struck the back of Diego’s head again with the butt of his weapon and the man slumped down, silent. The double blow to his occipital lobe had knocked him out cold.

Dae-hyun wasted no more time.

Taking advantage of the thugs’ shock at Diego’s takedown, he turned his wrists and twisted free from one of the men, landing a front kick at his groin. The man doubled over in pain. Dae-hyun quickly placed one foot on the goon’s back and launched himself into a backwards somersault, taking him over his other captor.

Upside down, mid-flip, Dae-hyun hooked his fingers under the man’s jaw. Gravity did the rest. Dae-hyun’s momentum added force to his arm as he shoved the guy’s head in front of him, slamming it down into the deck. He thought he heard the skull crack as he landed on his feet beside the incapacitated thug.

Sounds of his surroundings flooded his senses then.

All around him, the fight had been rejoined. Young-jae, Him-chan, and Jong-up were all whipping about with deadly force. Dae-hyun spared a glance to Sam first. She looked disheveled and pale, clutching her undoubtedly sore throat with one hand, but otherwise uninjured.

 _Good._ Dae-hyun noted. Now, to join the fray. And with haste.

* * *

 

The seconds ticked on inside Him-chan’s mind, counting down.

His body moved automatically, lashing out at Manuel’s now frantic and angry henchmen. He didn’t want to risk actually using his gun, not with his team in the background. They didn’t really need his help anyway.

Young-jae was sporting a split lip, but grinned all the while as he danced out of his opponent’s reach, then whacked him across the face with an aluminum deck chair. Dae-hyun stood near Samantha, his two captors lay prone by his feet. Him-chan’s eyes found Jong-up next, who was executing a perfect _naeryeo chagi_ with aplomb.

Even their female companions from the past weeks took up the fight. A couple of them were slashing at men with their steel-tipped stilettos, doing rather a lot of damage. Three women had body slammed another thug, smothering him with sofa cushions.

The sixth woman, however, had managed to procure a discarded gun and had it aimed at another guy. Before Him-chan could yell a word of caution, she fired. The man went down with a curse, clutching his bleeding shoulder.

The shot seemed to shake the rest of Manuel’s men into sense, reminding them that they were the ones who had more guns, after all. _Not good,_ Him-chan thought.

The echoes of gun shots rang out on the yacht, joined by screams and grunts. One of the girls collapsed to the deck, eyes unseeing.

“No!” Him-chan heard someone yell. One of her friends wailed and gathered the girl into her arms, trying in vain to shake her awake. Dae-hyun leaped across the deck, ducking under a round of bullets, and pried the woman away while she cried.

The ticking seconds in Him-chan’s mind grew louder.

 _“Jong-up, time to jump_ !” Him-chan ordered in Korean. No one but his B.A.P. members would understand, but that’d be enough. They’d just have make sure to take the women with them.

Jong-up immediately obeyed, yanking three girls at once into his arms and rushing towards the closest railing. He disappeared over the edge with a smooth shoulder roll.

Him-chan saw Young-jae open his mouth, but beat him to his question, “ _Young-jae, we_ really _need to abandon this yacht NOW!”_

Young-jae’s eyes widened in understanding. He dropped his chair-made-weapon and grabbed the closest girl’s hand. Dae-hyun, his arms full of a crying girl already, started dragging her to the railing as well.

Him-chan opened fire on the rest of Manuel’s thugs once Young-jae and Dae-hyun were clear enough, lending them some cover to abandon ship. While he shot, he made his way over to Sam, who was the only one left to help.

His gun clicked empty just as he reached her, so he chucked it at one of the guys hiding behind a table. Turning, he circled his arm around Sam’s narrow waist and pulled her close.

“Hang on tight,” he instructed, then ran at the railing, clearing it easily with a jump.

He shut his eyes as the water rushed up to meet them, and soon found himself flailing for the surface, salty water splashing everywhere as he came up.

 _How many seconds left?_ He thought worriedly. Where was Zelo when he needed him to keep track of the time down last thousandth of a second?!

Sam splashed up behind him, gasping for air.

“Swim!” Him-chan commanded. Fortunately, Kim’s friend instantly obliged, breaking into a freestyle stroke. Him-chan followed after her, both of them putting distance between themselves and the yacht as fast as they could.

Sam must have been a very good swimmer because she was easily pulling ahead of him, slicing through the water despite her long flowing hair.

Him-chan concentrated on rotating arm after arm, kicking hard. He managed to glimpse Dae-hyun, Young-jae, and Jong-up up ahead, making good time. He risked a look behind him at the Sunreef.

Three of Manuel’s remaining men were standing at the railing, some obviously injured, yelling obscenities at their lost prey, but uncertain whether they should follow, fire, or nothing at all. One man was on his phone, anxiety writ on his expression as he spoke into it.

Apparently the other line went dead, because he jerked it from his ear, chagrined. _Looks like his superior isn’t happy with him_ , Him-chan thought.

The next second, the night exploded with light and fire.

()()()()()()()()()()()()

[Axe Kick/Downward kick](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kick#Axe_kick) (내려 차기 _naeryeo chagi_ ): Another kick that has increased in popularity due to sparring competitions. The leg is raised usually from the outside of the body like an outside crescent kick. then the leg is pulled down with the heel pointed downward. It is typically targeted toward the head, shoulder, or chest and requires significant flexibility to employ effectively. This kick is best used against the collar bone, which can readily break from this attack. (Wikipedia)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, my mind was dancing about in glee and playing its own action soundtrack while I typed this chapter. Hope your heart was racing, too! Let us know!


	23. The Return of Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They swim back to shore and deal with the aftermath...as well as ponder how to tell Kim about what they did to her yacht. Oopsie?

* * *

Jong-up coughed as he finally dragged himself over the edge of the small motorboat. The three women he had rescued huddled together on board already, shivering a bit.

“Towels in that bag there,” Jong-up instructed before turning to look across the water.

The fiery wreckage that used to be the yacht still raged a ways away, lighting the water an eerie orange. Jong-up swayed to keep his balance as the waves undulated. His eyes found the splashes he was searching for.

“Hyung!” Jong-up called, raising his arm. Once the others started swimming his way, he unwrapped two large bundles and tossed them into the water, pulling the rip-cord at the same time. Two yellow inflatable lifeboats sprung into being.

Jong-up helped two of the girls into one of the boats, then charged them to tie each vessel together to form a chain. There was only one motor after all. Rowing would take too much time at this rate, and they were all wet and weary.

Him-chan managed to hoist Sam up into the one of the yellow boats, and she reached over to help him up in return. The same happened to Dae-hyun and the girl who was with him. Now, who was left? Oh, Young-jae, right!

“Oy!!!” came a yell from the water. Jong-up swiveled his head to the opposite side of his boat. “I can’t believe you guys _blew up_ the fuckin’ yacht!” Young-jae exclaimed. He was bobbing in the water, a blonde woman clinging to his back.

“Noona is gonna fuckin’ _murder_ you! Hell, I’m not sure _I’m_ not gonna hit you for not warning me!” Young-jae continued, splashing a hand down for emphasis.

Jong-up didn’t disagree. He wasn’t a genius, yes, but it didn’t take a genius to know when Noona would be angry. Or, in this case, completely and utterly furious.

“Oh, come now, Young-jae, I did actually warn you,” Him-chan replied as he pulled the girl from Young-jae’s back and onto his lifeboat. Young-jae snorted disbelievingly as he pulled himself up into the third boat.

“Yea, two seconds before it exploded! Thanks, Hyung. That’s fantastic.” Young-jae’s words seemed grateful, Jong-up thought, but why was he frowning then? Was this sarcasm? Jong-up swore he was starting to get the hang of that more nowadays.

Him-chan broke him from his thoughts, “Jong-up. Let’s go.”

“Oh,” Jong-up surveyed their group, “Wasn’t there another girl?”

Silence.

Jong-up noticed one of the girls bury her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook.

“She’s…not coming, Jong-up,” Dae-hyun answered, face grim, “Let’s go.”

Understanding, but unsure of how to express comfort, Jong-up simply started up the engine. Soon, the three boats were headed steadily to shore, their occupants silent as they drew farther and farther away from the flames and floating bits of wood. Beyond the billowing smoke, flashing red and blue lights from the coastal patrol were heading towards the incident, but Jong-up could tell they’d be long gone before any police caught up to them.

* * *

 

The shore that they picked to land on was close enough to a town to escape search patrols but far enough that civilians wouldn’t stumble upon them suddenly. Tourists could be seen in the distance, strolling along the beach. It looked like a safe location.

Dae-hyun huffed as he dragged his lifeboat ashore, aiding Young-jae and the two girls as they also alighted. One of them tripped as she tried to take a step, crying out.

“Maria! What is it?” her friend asked worriedly.

“I-it’s my leg,” Maria said, gritting her teeth.

“You got shot,” Jong-up stated. Dae-hyun almost sighed.

“Yes, obviously,” then he gave up and sighed anyway. “We have to tend to that, but first,” Dae-hyun turned to Young-jae, “You remember how to set up camp?” he inquired quietly.

“Yea. I’ll get to it,” Young-jae replied, looking just as exhausted as Dae-hyun felt.

Jong-up helped the girl to a large rock, setting her down gently. In the darkness, Dae-hyun could see Him-chan and Sam’s boat finally floating in on a wave.

Young-jae and one of the girls were already gathering wood from the treeline to make a fire, so Dae-hyun headed back towards the water, heedless of the water since he was already soaked. He wanted to see how Sam was doing anyways.

“C’mon Sam, we have to get to shore, to safety,” Him-chan was saying in a coaxing voice as Dae-hyun drew up next to them.

Sam was huddled up at one end of the lifeboat, shivering a bit from the cold wind on her wet clothes. Her long hair hung around her face in tangles as she stared at her toes. Dae-hyun didn’t know what to say. He had left her in that hideout, where he thought she’d be okay, and now here she was, almost killed by Diego then blown out of a ship and drenched to the bone.

Him-chan apparently gave up waiting for Dae-hyun to back him up. “Samantha,” he said decisively. She looked up then. “We have blankets stowed away in the trees. Kim is on her way. Please get out of the boat.”

Short sentences and the mention of Kim seemed to do the trick. Sam unwound herself, limbs stiff, and climbed out of the boat. Without even looking at Dae-hyun, she trudged through the rocky sand and towards the others. Dae-hyun followed after a brief glance to Him-chan.

He sincerely hoped Sam wasn’t broken. Because if she was, he didn’t want to admit to himself that he’d probably had a role to play in it, too, considering what he and Sam had done together. _Damn it all,_ Dae-hyun thought. He probably shouldn’t have left the hideout.

* * *

 

In short order, Young-jae actually managed to get a fire going. Everyone had a blanket and was settled on logs, or clear areas on the ground. The camp was bare, but then again, they were not going to be here much longer. At least, Dae-hyun hoped not. Maria was still wounded.

Hopefully, Yong-guk, Kim, and Zelo would all arrive soon. No matter how irate Kim would be, the lot of them couldn’t survive out here all night.

“It won’t stop bleeding!” One girl cried, gesturing toward Maria.

Young-jae walked over to examine the wound. He frowned, then laid the back of his hand on her forehead. “You’re getting a fever,” he said.

“We need to get the bullet out,” Him-chan stated, “It’d be best to get you to a hospital, but…we have to take care of this part.”

They tied a ripped length of cloth tight around the girl’s thigh above the injury as a tourniquet, then wound a roll of bandages Jong-up had salvaged from one of the lifeboats over the hole. Dae-hyun handed Young-jae the med kit.

“I checked it. The tools are there, and you can sterilize with the fire,” Dae-hyun stated. Young-jae concentrated on his task as he laid out what they needed to perform the procedure. “We don’t usually do this on anyone but each other, though.”

Him-chan looked back at the women as Young-jae prepped, “Shouldn’t be much different.” He spared Dae-hyun a glance. “Remember, they knew what they were getting into with us. They knew they may have to fight. Naturally, injuries may follow.”

Dae-hyun remained silent. Young-jae gathered his newly sterilized tools and turned back to Maria, instructing her friends to do the comforting while Him-chan and Jong-up held down her limbs. Dae-hyun quickly realized they didn’t need another person crowding around her.

While the rest of them were occupied attempting to calm Maria, urging her to breathe deeply, Dae-hyun looked around, knowing who he’d rather talk to right now.

Sam was sitting off to one side under a small tree, half hidden in the faint glow of the moon. Her eyes stared out at the ocean. Dae-hyun grabbed a bag of trail mix and walked towards her, making sure to tread heavily so Sam would hear his approach.

She glanced at him, but only held her blanket tighter and turned back to the water.

“Here. You should eat something.” Dae-hyun stuck out his hand with the bag, sitting down cross-legged next to her. His butt protested the rocky ground, but nothing was uncomfortable as this hesitant attempt at conversation.

Sam remained unresponsive. Her head did not move up to meet his eyes. He reached for her shoulder, and she flinched.

“Just…leave...” She whispered.

Dae-hyun dropped his hand. Abruptly, a scream of pain sounded from behind him, following quickly by soothing murmurs of reassurance. Sam had glanced over her shoulder at the mini-operation, just as Dae-hyun had. Their gazes met as Sam turned back around.

Yet she still avoided his silent plea to talk to him. She averted her eyes again.

“You’re freezing to death over here,” Dae-hyun tried instead.

“I’ve got a blanket,” Sam retorted.

Irked by her curt reply, Dae-hyun knelt down in front of her and tried to pull her arms away, meeting her eyes. She yanked back. _Well, at least she’s still got some strength,_ Dae-hyun mused, _which means she’s uninjured._

“You should come by the fire. Let me look at your neck. It looked like Diego almost crushed it and--” Dae-hyun reasoned.

“What do you care anyway?” Sam suddenly cut in. Her tone made Dae-hyun recoil sharply.

“What! Of course, I care, Sam!” How could she possibly think he didn’t? Dae-hyun had not wanted this to happen to her. “You’ve been through a lot, I know, okay? I’m not an idiot.”

“Really?” Sarcasm laced her voice, “Then you meant to leave me there while Yong-guk tortured Manuel by letting rats chew him up alive?”

Dae-hyun felt his mouth drop open. _Fuck, she saw that?!_ He was sure his eyes were wide with horror. Sam seemed to notice his surprise and her face softened a bit.

“Sam, I…you…you shouldn’t have had to see that,” Dae-hyun muttered. It was times like these when Dae-hyun irrationally wanted to hate himself for what he was. But such rare thoughts never went anywhere. He was a member of B.A.P. Always had been. For as long as he bothered to remember of his life, anyway. Why was it that Sam made him feel…ashamed? Was that the right word?

Sam watched him, searching his eyes for something. What it was, Dae-hyun couldn’t guess. There was some deep emotion reflected in her gaze, almost vulnerable in its intensity, as if Sam wanted to tell him something but couldn’t trust herself to say it.

One of her hands twitched towards him, as if seeking comfort.

But then Sam closed her eyes and tucked herself back into a ball. Fighting to hide his disappointment, Dae-hyun frowned instead, suddenly annoyed.

“Samantha, you can’t just sit here all night! Stop being so stubborn and sit by the fire with us,” He demanded. He grabbed her shoulders then and forcefully pulled Sam up to standing.

“Please don’t! I…just want to be alone and…away from you people,” Sam protested. She chanced a look at him, and Dae-hyun caught the glimmer of tears building.

Exhaling heavily, he let go of her. “Fine then! Stay here and freeze to death!” He stomped back to the camp fire, mentally fighting with himself whether or not to stay or go. _She really can’t stay over there all night. She’ll come back,_ Dae-hyun thought stubbornly, _I won’t go to her again._

* * *

 

Jong-up tapped his foot idly as the night passed. It was rather peaceful by now, in his opinion. The wounded girl had fallen asleep, two of her friends curled up next to her. Young-jae and Him-chan sat nearby, talking quietly to the other two women who had decided to remain awake. Jong-up had heard plans to take drop them all off at the hospital once their transports had arrived. He knew his hyung well enough to know that Yong-guk had probably thought of that possibility already and that all the women would be taken care of, bills paid for, and all that.

Jong-up just wanted to lie down and sleep himself, but Him-chan hadn’t said he should, so he didn’t. Instead, he simply watched the others as they moved about the camp. Young-jae had been pacing earlier—thoughtful or hungry, Jong-up could never tell—before he sat down to talk to Him-chan hyung.

A few minutes ago, Dae-hyun hyung had picked up a bottle of water and an extra blanket, walked over to Sam, muttering to himself, and sat down on the opposite side of the tree as Sam. He had seemed almost…grudging?

Jong-up shrugged mentally. Dae-hyun was complicated sometimes.

The second-to-youngest B.A.P. member leaned back against his own tree, breathing deeply. He should probably stretch, work out the last of the tension in his muscles. Or maybe he could see what kind of weapons he could fashion from the branches next to him. He’d made a rather nice spear once. Carved designs into it and everything.

Before he could pinpoint the exact branch he wanted, the faint roar of automobile engines reached his ears. Jong-up stood quickly, spying a pair of headlights flickering through the trees, headed their way.

Looked like Noona was here.

Sure enough, an Aventador J wound its way down the winding dirt path, then stopped ten meters from their campsite. Kim kept the lights on as she opened the door, jogging lightly towards them.

“Hey, I’m here!” she declared, “Him-chan? Sam?”

“Noona!” Young-jae answered her first, then stood, pointing at her accusingly, “You’re late!”

Kim stared at him indignantly, “What? You guys aren’t even at the original meet up point! Yong-guk only told me there was a change of plans when I asked him to pick up Zelo for me.”

“Wait, wasn’t Zelo riding with _you_?” Him-chan cut in.

Kim put her hands on her hips. “He was, but—“

“SAM!” a male voiced yelled from behind Kim. Jong-up turned to peer at the newcomer, one cautious hand on his knife. A Puerto-Rican-looking guy ran into view, past Kim, heading straight towards where Dae-hyun was standing. The knife was out of his sleeve now.

Him-chan threw up a halting hand. Jong-up stopped just shy of letting the knife fly.

“Hector?” Sam had stepped forward, astonished. She hesitated a moment, then launched herself at him. “Hector!”

The shorter girl threw her arms around the young man and held on tightly. Dae-hyun suddenly looked like he was sucking on a lemon, which really confused Jong-up. _Complicated,_ Jong-up told himself again. Sam only let go when Kim ran up next to her. “Kim!” she exclaimed and hugged her even harder than she did that Hector guy.

“Sam…you’re ok…thank God,” Kim mumbled over her friends shoulder, relief evident in her voice, even to Jong-up’s perception. “What happened?” Kim asked, pushing back to look at Sam’s face.

Sam’s mouth clamped shut, and she looked down. “What is it, Sam?” the man called Hector asked, “What did they do to you?”

“Oh, I’m fine, Hector! Please don’t worry! It’s…it’s a long story.” Sam sent a pleading look to Kim.

“Of course,” Kim replied, “Let’s get you safe first, okay?”

“We’re okay too, Noona, thanks for asking!” Young-jae chimed in, affecting a petulant stance. Kim glared at him.

“By the way you’re complaining, I think you’re completely fine, Young-jae, don’t fuss!” Kim countered immediately. Then she looked around. “So…who can tell me where my yacht is?”

Silence.

Even Sam and Hector and piped down, looking at the rest of them.

“Well?” Kim put her hands on her hips.

“Um…I, um,” Young-jae stammered, looking upwards at nothing. Dae-hyun had turned away, scratching his head, while Him-chan fussed with their gear. He had yet to stand up from his seated position on the ground, actually.

“You guys, what happened?!” Kim pinned Dae-hyun with her questioning gaze next, when a voice called out from the road.

“There was a change of plans, like I said Kim,” Yong-guk strode into the campsite, the picture of calm. Jong-up could see Zelo step out from the passenger side of Yong-guk’s Veyron, but he stayed near the car, looking cautious. Jong-up offhandedly wondered why. Four Mercedes SUVs pulled up behind them a second later. This must be the transport Hyung was talking about.

“Yea, so you said, Yong-guk,” Kim was saying cautiously, “what aren’t you telling me?”

Hyung shrugged, “Just that we had to blow up the yacht to make the new plan work.”

Kim’s mouth worked, but no sound issued from it. Young-jae seemed to be trying to inch backwards.

“You’re lying,” Kim finally uttered, narrowing her eyes at B.A.P.’s leader. When Yong-guk only shrugged again and put his hands into his pockets, Kim recoiled, alarmed.

Suddenly her eyes honed on Jong-up and she walked directly up to him. “Jong-up,” she said, sounding like she trying hard to keep her voice level, “Where is my yacht?”

Jong-up blinked, then pointed towards the still smoking and orange point out on the horizon. “There.” Jong-up didn’t really know why Noona was even asking. Anyone could see the burning boat if they just looked.

Kim swiveled. And stared for the span of a heartbeat, then shrieked, “ _WHAT?!”_

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()


	24. Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things just need to be said. Some truths come forth between Kim and Sam. At least they're safe now. For the time being.

* * *

_B.A.P. Safe house near El Tunque National Park, Puerto Rico_

Sam examined her face in the mirror as she brushed the tangles out of her wet, black hair. At least it no longer smelled like sea water, thanks to her second shower in the last twenty-four hours. Kim had reassured her that if she needed anything, this safe house apparently had it. All she had to do was ask.

But how could Sam ask for her sanity back? Things were just too…unbelievable.

Having Hector accompany her here was a relief in some ways, but not in others. He was definitely someone she could trust, but Sam didn’t want him to be in danger either. Just look what happened to _her_! However, from the stubborn set of his jaw, Hector did not seem like he would leave now that he found her. Indeed, he had stayed glued to her side from the beach all way to the safe house.

Sam had to smile. It wasn’t until she had poked his arm and said there was no way he was allowed to watch her use the toilet did he agree to give her some privacy. Of course, the fact that Sam was alone also meant Hector was alone.

The smile dissolved. Sam hoped Hector wasn’t being grilled by the guys or starting a brawl. She wasn’t blind. She could easily see Hector’s enmity towards them, and though Sam understood now why Hector had so adamantly insisted she stay away from them, she wondered exactly why he hated them so completely.

Sam winced suddenly. The brush had caught on a particularly nasty snarl.

“Stupid thing,” she muttered, tugging harshly.

“You’re gonna deprive your scalp of a good chunk of hair if you keep doing that,” a voice pointed out sardonically from the doorway.

It was Kim. “Sorry for not knocking,” she apologized with a half-smile that still looked worried, “I just wanted to see how you were doing. Was the bathroom okay?”

“Yea, of course. It’s a very nice bathroom,” Sam answered. They both paused, meeting gazes, neither one knowing how to broach the topic that was on both their minds. Finally, Kim walked over to her.

“Here,” Kim gently took the brush from Sam’s grip, turning her friend back towards the mirror, “you were never good at doing your hair on your own, Sam.”

Sam scoffed good-naturedly. “Yes, thank you, Ms. Personal Hairstylist. But you forget, I’m no longer your employee. I don’t have to get all dressed up for _Le Yacht_ if I don’t want to.”

Kim smiled fully now as she smoothed out Samantha’s hair, defeating the tangle, “Yes, well, I’ve got a lot of employees. You can be upgraded now to being my sister, or something.” Kim’s caught her breath, realizing what she’d just said. Her brushing motion stilled.

Startled, and touched by the sentiment, Sam tried to keep talking. “Yes, well…thanks,” she finished sincerely.

Kim glanced up at the mirror at Sam’s reflection, sorrow in the lines of her brow, “I could understand if you didn’t want to, though.”

Thoughts of what Yong-guk and the others had done flickered through her mind, making her cringe. She turned around to face Kim directly. Her hair was all straightened out anyway, falling in glossy curtains. Sam took the brush from the other woman and laid it on the vanity. “What I don’t understand, Kim, is why you’re with them at all. They’re…involved in a lot of illegal and, to be frank, fucking scary shit!”

Sam knew her language shocked Kim more than the intensity she used.

Kim heaved a sigh. “Let’s sit down. We need to talk.” Sam followed her over to the bed, sitting down into the soft mattress next to her friend. Kim drew a pillow into her lap and hugged it as she stared out of the large window in front of them. Sam had to admit the safe house provided beautiful views. From the second floor, the swaying green canopy of leaves flicked streams of sunlight into the cream-colored walls rooms, making the sheets glow.

Sam waited for Kim to speak.

“I was telling you the truth when you first met Yong-guk and the others. Remember? When I gave you ride in my car?” Sam nodded. “Well, what I left out was that my father’s business is…not on the legal side. Not all of it. He has connections….”

Kim took one look at Sam’s nonplussed expression, and snorted, “Oh screw it. He’s basically mafia. With mafia friends and dealings. Especially with T.S. They practically built their empires side-by-side, and that’s how I met Yong-guk and Him-chan. They’re part of T.S.’s group, called B.A.P.”

Sam’s eyebrows rose. “Seriously? You mean all the guys out there are, like, mafia hit-men?”

“Yea, pretty much,” Kim replied. Sam knew her face looked stunned. Her friend went on, “T.S. raised them. They’re trained in all sorts of abilities, and have been doing missions since they were, oh, I don’t know, fourteen?” She shrugged.

Sam blanched, “They’ve been killing people since they were fourteen?!”

Kim gave her a considering look, hesitating, “Sam, I know it sounds horrifying, but, it’s their job and—“

“Murdering people is their job?” Kim winced, but didn’t back down.

“Like I said, it’s just how the mafia world is, okay? Do what the boss says to run his domain.”

“And that includes you, Kim?” Sam couldn’t help but dig more into the story. Kim didn’t act heartless, not really. And her father! Oh my god, Derek was a mafia lord of some kind? He certainly didn’t behave like one. “Do you run ops for your father? Is he even your real father?” she added a bit more sarcastically than she’d intended.

“Of course he’s my real father, Sam!” Kim retorted, shaking her head about vigorously, “And a damn good one, too. He’s tried to keep me safe all these years.”

“Really? Then why all the dealings with T.S. and B.A.P.? They’re a constant source of danger evidently! How many weeks they’ve been here, and, what? They’re your childhood friends so you go gallivanting off every night doing operations?” Sam babbled.

“Yes!” Kim’s interjection caught Sam off-guard and she shut her mouth. Kim looked her friend straight in the eyes, gaze steady. “You don’t have all the facts, Sam…. There’s very good reasons why I’m involved with B.A.P.”

“Tell me,” Sam urged, longing to understand.

Kim began to talk, and Sam kept silent, listening intently as the story was laid out in haunting tones. “Years ago, my mother died, that you already know. Well, she was murdered actually. Brutally. By a man who used to be my father and T.S.’s partner.” Kim’s voice hardened. “He wanted something T.S. had, but mistakenly thought my father was in possession of it, so he kidnapped my mother, holding her ransom. My father immediately sent in his own men to get her back, but Carlos—their ex-partner—had her killed first. I…I saw her die.

“We hid…but Carlos had a lot of power back then and followed us. He tried to get me next, but my father never did let him meet me, so he erred. Andrea, my best friend, was mistaken for me and abducted instead.” Kim choked, a sound so filled with guilty remorse, Sam couldn’t help but take ahold of one of Kim’s hands in comfort.

“What happened to her?” Sam asked softly.

“She was killed, too,” Kim breathed, “Her body was sent back in pieces.”

Sam was horrified, “Oh my god….”

Kim continued, her voice harsh, but seemed like she just wanted to get the words out, “I…was not okay after that. And neither was my father. He and T.S. hunted Carlos down then, sabotaging his biggest alliances with other mafia lords. His foundations and resources crumbled. He fled, like the dog he is, before we could kill him. But he’s back again, and we won’t—I won’t—let him escape. He’ll _pay_.”

Kim’s hands were twisted around the pillow when she finished speaking, as if wringing a man’s neck.

“Thanks for being honest with me,” Sam said at last. Part of her was scared, of course, given the situation, but another part could understand that need for revenge. Losing one’s loved ones so gruesomely…. Sam cleared her throat.

“I guess I should tell you my story, too,” Sam said, taking her turn at staring out the window as she gathered the words in her mind.

Kim turned to her. Sam took a breath.

“I was kidnapped, too. I didn’t know who had taken me until I woke up here in Puerto Rico amongst other women who were going to be sold into prostitution,” Sam swallowed, remembering her close escape. “I got away, luckily, and met Hector, who took me in and helped me find my way, teaching me Spanish, and all that. I coped with it, you know. I mean, what else could I do? It wasn’t until I felt like I had my bearings well enough to find a good job did I meet you, Kim. I wanted to save enough money to get home.”

“Where are you really from, then?” Kim asked.

“Oregon. Well, at least, that’s where I was going to college,” Sam replied, a bit wistfully.

“What about your family? How come they never found you?”

“I’m an orphan,” Sam admitted, not looking at Kim, “There’s no one who would come looking for me.”

It was Kim’s turn to squeeze Sam’s hand in comfort.

“It’s fine, you know,” Sam elaborated, “I mean, there’s a whole lot of people in the world, and I made good friends in lieu of having a family. Like in Oregon State there was—“ Sam cut herself off, remembering.

“What is it?” Kim queried, brow furrowed.

“It’s just…well, in college, I had a roommate that I got really close to. She was like my long lost twin or something.” Sam smiled, recalling the fun they’d had together. “Not physically, I guess, though we were both Asian, but we got along so well. Rooming with her was like having a family—not that I’d know, I suppose—Kayla could always keep me on track, too. Like whenever I was late--”

This time Sam paused because of Kim. Her whole body had gone rigid, and she was holding her breath.

“Kim?”

“You…you said your roommate’s name was Kayla? Kim Kayla?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Oh, just a guess. You said Asian so…common last names, you know…” Kim hedged.

Sam nodded a bit unsurely, but continued. “She was from Korea, too, actually. The last time I saw her…she was headed home for the holidays,” Sam felt a burst of mournfulness, “I hope…”

“Hope what?”

Sam shook her head, “It’s a ridiculous thing, really. The night I was taken…I had had a dream about her getting eaten by sharks…,” she trailed off, shivering, remembering the repeated nightmares she’d had in her early days in Puerto Rico. Sighing, she looked up at Kim.

Her friend was pale as the bed sheets.

“Kim?” Sam asked, alarmed. She brushed Kim’s shoulder lightly. Kim’s eyes found hers.

“That, um, that sounds…awful, Sam,” Kim hesitated. Sam wondered what she was thinking, to look so shaken. Kim abruptly stood.

“You should get some rest, Sam. I’m gonna go talk to Yong-guk for a minute,” her friend stated, heading towards the door.

Sam stood. “Wait!”

Kim looked back. Sam stared at her toes, feeling foolish. Why did she feel all tense now? She hoped she didn’t say anything wrong that made Kim so anxious.

“I just…I…are you sure about all this?” Sam tried to suffuse her voice with as much logic as possible, “This isn’t just crazy, it’s ludicrous! I mean, I’ve been kidnapped, threatened, nearly raped, but Young-jae got me out, and then Dae-hyun…helped me recover—shoot, I was kind of a jerk to him, I guess—but, I-I saw Gonzalez tortured and killed, then got dragged onto a yacht to be hung over the side at knifepoint, only to be thrown over afterward by Him-chan because they all freakin’ _blew it up_!”

Sam knew she sounded hysterical now, as she recapped the events in a rapid outpouring of words. Kim’s face melted into sympathy and she hurried back over, pulling Sam into a tight hug.

“Oh Sam…” Kim said, “I’m so sorry. I really, really am.”

Sam could only nod into Kim’s shoulders, trying to get a hold of herself. Kim continued.

“You’ll be safe now, though. You can stay here until we complete finish this mission. There are guards and security measures all over perimeter and we’re on the outskirts of a protected national park. Whatever’s left of Gonzalez’s men can’t access this safe house from the outside. Zelo made sure of that. He’s really good at that sort of thing. And I promise, once this is done, we’ll do whatever we can to get you home.” Kim tried a smile. “Just rest, now, okay? That’s an order from your superior.”

Sam rolled her eyes in spite of herself, but straightened anyway. “I’m not on your payroll anymore, Ms. Le. I don’t have to do what you tell me to,” she teased, “but I’ll take your suggestion this one time, because I’m exhausted.” And with that, she flopped onto the bed. Lying flat on her back suddenly felt fantastic.

Kim smiled softly, turning towards the door again.

Sam lifted her head and called out before she stepped out, “Thank you, Kim. And…I’m glad you’re all right.”

“I’m glad you are, too, Sam. We’ll talk again later.”

Sam agreed. Later sounded good.

* * *

 

Kim shut the door to Sam’s room quietly and took a deep breath, trying to center herself. She needed to talk to Yong-guk. Now. _Seriously, what are the odds?_ She thought.

She hurried down the stairs and through the living room, where Jong-up was napping peacefully on the couch, long legs crossed over the arm.

“Is Sam all right?” It was Dae-hyun, seated in a nearby armchair, peering at her restlessly.

“Yes,” Kim hesitated, “but she’s going to take a nap.”

“Oh. Okay then,” Dae-hyun nodded. His hands paged through the magazine selections on the side table.

“Dae-hyun,” the urge to ask him what happened between him and Sam was powerful, but surely Sam would have said something if there’d been a problem. In the end Kim just sighed, “Thanks for taking care of her.”

Dae-hyun glanced up, surprised, “Oh. Um, sure.” He flicked his bangs out of his eyes with an easy motion that most girls probably melted for. “I…she needed some comfort…was all.”

He didn’t elaborate beyond that. _Huh_ , Kim wondered, _Is Dae-hyun actually smitten on Sam? Interesting…._

“Get some rest, Dae-hyun. I gotta go. You know where Yong-guk is?” Kim asked.

“Kitchen.” Kim nodded her thanks and veered in that direction.

Rounding the corner, and passing through the archway that opened into a bright kitchen and dining room, Kim spied Yong-guk seated at the dark wooden bar, slicing through a mango with one of his knives. Him-chan, looking freshly showered in a loose white shirt, stood nearby staring at Hector, who paced the length of the room, shooting the other men suspicious glares now and again.

“I’m surprised,” Kim announced, stepping up to fridge to grab herself a bottle of water, “I thought Dae-hyun or Young-jae would be the one in here, gobbling up as much food as they could.”

Him-chan turned to look at her. “You’d think so. But Dae-hyun’s all worried about Sam and Young-jae grumbled something about not forgiving Yong-guk then walked off somewhere.”

“Yea, what happened there anyway?”

Yong-guk smirked, “My battery died while I was trying to call him. So now he says it’s all my fault he almost got blown to bits.”

Kim walked over and punched Yong-guk’s exposed shoulder and he yowled, shrinking back.

“Damn it, Kim, that’s the same spot from before! Don’t you think you’ve hit me enough by the beach?” he protested.

“No! I don’t!” Kim retorted. “And that was for not warning Young-jae and thus putting Sam in danger!”

She sighed exasperatedly when Yong-guk only looked unrepentant. Well, she supposed, thinking back to her reaction now, it might have been just a tad bit callous, at least in regards to the yacht.

_“WHAT DO YOU MEAN?? YOU…YOU GUYS BLEW IT UP??” Kim screamed, hands on her head, eyes fixed on the wreckage out at sea._

_“Eh, eh, Noona, keep your voice down,” Young-jae dared to say._

_“No! I want an explanation. Right now. That was_ MY _yacht! My beautiful Sunreef Trimaran!” She whirled, pinning Yong-guk with the deadliest stare she could muster amidst her horror, “YOU!”_

_For a second, Yong-guk actually looked scared, uncertainty in his eyes as Kim advanced on him._

_“You signed a contract!!!” Kim fisted her right hand and jabbed him in the shoulder, right underneath the socket joint, just like they taught her, knuckles digging into the muscle. Then she drew back and hit him again. And again._

_“Hey! Ow, hey! Kim, calm down!” Yong-guk held up his hands trying to block off her fury. “A little help here, Him-chan.”_

_Him-chan chuckled. Wrong move. Kim turned her glare to her other best childhood friend. “And_ you _let him carry out this insanity! I can’t believe you, Him-chan!”  
_

_“For the record, I did not agree with this plan,” Dae-hyun called out._

_“Shut up!” Kim yelled back. He did._

_“That was my favorite yacht!!” Kim shouted again at Yong-guk._

_“Oy, if it was your favorite, then why did you sell it? Ten mils you got from it, if I remember correctly,” Yong-guk pointed out, rubbing his shoulder tenderly. “So I technically blew up Gonzalez’s yacht, not yours.”_

_“I—“ Kim paused, caught in the truth. But revived her indignation after a second, “It wasn’t recorded in the books. You said to just take the cash and that you’d get my yacht back for me, so it was still mine!”_

_“Yea, I told you to keep the cash…so you could buy a new yacht.”_

_“…Yong-guk!!!”Kim reached out to punch his other shoulder._

_“Plus, you still have the insurance, right, Kim?” Him-chan added appealingly._

_Kim narrowed her eyes at the two of them a bit longer, determined to hang onto her righteous anger. It felt good to punch Yong-guk. Course, it always did. He could be such a smarmy bastard._

_“I am never,_ ever, _letting you borrow my stuff ever again,” she finally declared. “Not yachts, not cars, not even a tissue box!!”_

After that tirade, Kim had turned back to Sam, all gentleness, and ushered her to one of the Mercedes. Hector had insisted he ride with her, so they took a separate car while Kim followed closely behind in her Aventador all the way to the safe house. The rest of B.A.P. had piled into two of other vehicles, while the fourth drove the girls to the hospital, with private instructions from Yong-guk and a briefcase full of cash for their troubles. The women hadn’t seemed too put out, although Kim doubted they’d ever willingly hang out with B.A.P. again.

“I mean it, you know. Never, ever again,” Kim said to Yong-guk presently.

“Sure, sure,” Yong-guk agreed easily. Kim didn’t believe him for a second. However, she decided to shelf that particular argument for now and re-focused on her original intended topic.

“I need to talk to you, Yong-guk.” Both Yong-guk and Him-chan met her gaze, sensing her change of tone. “It’s…about Kayla.”

As expected, Yong-guk immediately tensed, shooting her a warning with the way he gripped his knife. Kayla was a very difficult subject for him, Kim knew.

“Samantha—“ Kim started.

“Hold on.” Yong-guk shushed her and looked to his second-in-command. Him-chan gave Yong-guk one worried raised eyebrow, but eventually nodded. He strode over to Hector.

“I’ll show you to your room,” Him-chan told Sam’s friend politely, though his voice was flat. Hector stared at each of them distrustfully. “This conversation does not concern you. Besides, you need some rest, correct?” Him-chan added persuasively.

“Not really,” Hector replied, though he did stand up anyway, acquiescing.

“I’ll let you know once Sam wakes up, okay?” Kim couldn’t help but throw the guy some reassurance. His mouth twitched as if he was trying to hold back a smile in the presence of B.A.P., though his eyes showed some gratitude towards her. He nodded.

Once the pair had left, Kim faced Yong-guk directly. “He’s just worried about Sam, you know. She says he was her savior.”

Yong-guk hummed noncommittally, “Be that as it may, we don’t know much about him, Kim. The way he looks at us is suspect. He’s a serious character for someone so young. I don’t agree with you bringing him here.” Kim bristled at his chastising tone.

“It was my decision. And Sam needed him. Besides, so what if he’s serious. You are, too, for your age.”

“We don’t exactly count as civilians,” Yong-guk finished eating his mango and circled the bar to throw away the peel and wash his knife. “Now what were you saying about Kayla?” His voice sounded tight.

Kim spoke quietly. “Samantha knew her.”

Yong-guk looked up at that. “What? What do you mean?”

“She told me she roomed with a girl named Kim Kayla, and that the last time she saw her was when she left for Korea for the holidays last year. Yong-guk, Kayla went to Oregon State, too, as an exchange student. That must have been her!”

Yong-guk remained silent, contemplating.

Kim lowered her voice to a whisper and drew beside Yong-guk. “Carlos’s men could have broken into Kayla’s room looking for the plates, and Sam was there, so they took her, not knowing that she was just a regular girl who nothing to do with all this!”

Kim worried her lip, feeling the realization wash over her. How many more innocent girls was Carlos going to pull into this? Sam was right. It was all ludicrous.

“So,” Yong-guk’s voice was even softer than Kim’s, “she got to see Kayla last.”

Kim’s breath caught and laid a gentle hand on Yong-guk’s arm. He sounded as heart-broken as she’d ever heard him, and his eyes gazed unseeing down at the water as it swirled down the drain. Down, around, and gone, disappearing into the metal pipes.

“I’m sorry, Yong-guk,” Kim said. “If you want to talk some more about—“

Yong-guk shut the water off with a swipe of his hand. “Carlos needs to pay. And we can’t do that unless we track down Rafael. Let’s go see what Zelo has managed to find.” And with that, he was off, striding speedily through the door with his long legs, one hand closing his knife and stowing it a hidden pocket.

Kim hurried to catch up.

()()()()()()()()()()

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as much action (at all) as the previous chapters, I know, but hey, you can't always be running around without some sort of reprieve. Hope this answers some questions you readers may or may not have a the moment. Stick with it, because it only gets more complicated from here on out. The mystery ramps up in full!


	25. History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bringing BAP up to speed (and you readers, too) on Carlos Rodriguez and his past history with T.S., but from the mafia side this time. Plus, a little cameo from another of T.S.'s empire.

* * *

Yong-guk strode through the hallways of the Le’s safe house, brooding thoughts churning in his mind.  _Kayla, Kayla, Kayla,_ his thoughts echoed.

She had been his…light.

Yong-guk could still remember her voice, her smile, the way her dark hair shone in the sun. It hadn’t mattered that she was T.S.’s daughter, he had fallen for her. All those years of growing up beside someone you protected and admired…it had been inevitable.

And then T.S. had sent her to America as an exchange student, to remove her from the spotlight and distance her from his enemies. Oh, how Yong-guk regretted that now. He should have gone with her, damn it all! Kept her safe.

But no, Kayla had been abducted getting off the plane in Korea. The moment T.S. had received the ransom call, he and B.A.P. had realized Carlos had returned. Yong-guk recalled the terror that had gripped his heart then. Kayla’s pleas had echoed through the phone. Even now, he heard them.

In the end, they had been too late to save her.

Whether Carlos was the one who wielded the final weapon or not, he needed to die. And all in his employ would follow him to hell. Of that, Yong-guk bet his life.

 _And the way to find Carlos now rests on finding Rafael._ With that thought, Yong-guk opened the door to the safe house’s center of command, a small room lined with monitors and communication devices.

Zelo lounged in the desk chair, his laptop jacked into the system, fingers flying over the keys.

“What did you find out?” Yong-guk urged. Kim edged in the room behind him, closing the door.

Zelo glanced at the two of them, scrutinizing their faces, no doubt picking up on the tense atmosphere that had sprung up with the mention of Kayla. However, he wisely did not ask.

“Not much,” Zelo answered, “Carlos has been running around like a ghost the last few years, and Rafael was his right hand man. From the few witness testimonies I was able to scrounge up, Rafael functions as his assassin, for the most part. Does all the dirty work.”

Zelo hit some buttons, and a stream of pictures popped up on screen. Kim gasped and put one hand to her mouth, eyes wide. Yong-guk stared unflinchingly at the images of bloody corpses.

“Brutal murders. Penchant for blood, this guy,” Yong-guk sneered. Give him a clean kill any day. Much more professional, in his opinion.

“Apparently so,” Zelo agreed, “Unfortunately, if we follow the trail of bodies, there’s no centralized kill zone. The two of them had flit about like nomads, and Rafael himself seems to have no solid background. It seems his entire life revolves around, well, his chosen profession.”

“So we have no idea where he could be?” Yong-guk concluded.

“Wait,” Kim interjected, “Weren’t you trying to lure him here with Gonzalez and all that?”

“That was the original plan, yes, and it was supposed to take much longer. Slowly eroding Carlos’ investment here in San Juan and prompting him to investigate. The presence of the CIA made us move up the operation,” Zelo explained.

“But that insipid Gonzalez yielded very little information in the end,” Yong-guk added unhappily. He sighed. “We’ll have to call in some favors. See if some of T.S.’s contacts have seen Carlos or Rafael in their territories lately.”

“I’m one step ahead of you, Hyung,” Zelo announced, hands typing rapidly.

He brought up what was obviously an inbox. One of the messages was blinking red. The sender was T.S. Corp, in Korea. Clicking on it did not bring up a wall of text, as Yong-guk had expected, but rather, a video screen. A young Asian woman with short brown hair and large, lined eyes faced them, a slight smile on her lips. When she spoke, the deep voice clashed with her baby face, but didn’t detract from her beauty.

“Hyosung Noona said she had some information for me,” Zelo related. Yong-guk nodded his approval, then listened to what the girl had to say.

“Greetings, Zelo. And Yong-guk, I’m guessing. Maybe Him-chan, too?” Hyosung winked prettily. Kim groaned and rolled her eyes. “My name is Hyosung, as you all know. I have sent over our updated information regarding the fugitive Carlos Rodriguez, as per Mr. Derek Le’s request to T.S. himself. Please review the documents carefully and contact me if you have any questions. Have a wonderful day!”

“That Hyosung…” Kim started to grumble.

“Noona, she’s one of T.S.’s best and most trusted agents from SECR--”

“Open the file Zelo. We don’t have all day to talk about Hyosung,” Yong-guk commanded.

“Aye, boss. Okay…let’s see here.” Zelo quickly downloaded the attachment, but a window popped up next, asking for a password.

“Um....Noona?” Zelo called.

“Why are you asking me?” Kim countered.

“It was sent from T.S. to your father originally,” Yong-guk voiced. “Do you know his password?” From the look on her face, Yong-guk could tell Kim didn’t know it. He wasn’t surprised. Kim rarely wanted to involve herself with her father’s personal dealings. Managing his legal profits in _Le Yacht_ was enough for her.

“I could probably crack it,” Zelo suggested.

“That's alright. I’ll just text my dad.” Kim pulled out her phone to do just that.

Her phone vibrated in response not two minutes later. It was a voice call, though, not a text, so Kim answered.

“Dad.”

Yong-guk watched her face as she spoke with her father. When she finished the brief explanation and asked for the password, whatever reply she received clearly shook her. Her lips pressed together and she looked down at the floor.

“Kim?” Yong-guk inquired, concerned. Kim swung her head back and forth, and when she looked up again, tears edged her lower lashes.

“I’m okay.” She waved him off with one hand. “Ahem. Thanks, Dad,” she said in farewell, voice soft, before she ended the call.

“Noona? Did you…get the password?” Zelo encouraged.

“Yea…it’s _LindaLe_ ,” his friend answered. _Ah, I see._ Yong-guk understood now.

“All this time, he used my mother's name…” Kim murmured, sounding touched.

Yong-guk laid an arm about her shoulders, squeezing her shoulder supportively. He thought it silly, sometimes, the way Kim irrationally doubted her father’s dedication. Compared to T.S., Derek was a basically a teddy bear in the way he showed affection to his family.

Then again, to Yong-guk’s point of view, T.S. seemed to take his job much more seriously. The fact that he would often take Yong-guk aside to converse about the rigors of being a leader…well, he only wanted to make sure B.A.P. was doing well. Yong-guk knew B.A.P. was one of his largest long-term investments. They were his most efficient weapons, after all.

The ding of the computer as it finished extracting all the files roused Yong-guk from his musings.

“Let’s see what we’ve got,” Zelo stretched his fingers, then clicked open the first report.

It was a long, almost twenty pages of biography and criminal records regarding one Carlos Rodríguez. Yong-guk’s eyes scanned the page, eyebrows rising as he read.

_Carlos Rodriguez, previously known as Christopher Franco Milano, was a CIA agent before he started his illegal business transactions. Apparently he had been dealing with drug dealers years before defecting. In 1997, Milano’s partner discovered his secrets and threatened to report him. Milano killed the man, and eventually ran from the CIA, after stealing the original U.S. Currency Printing Plates. It was then that Milano changed his name to Carlos Rodriguez and built himself a reputation as one of the most dangerous fugitives in the world. He held a large handful of stocks in the black market and other underground mafia associations. In 2000, Rodriguez’s whereabouts were leaked to the CIA, forcing the man into hiding once again. He entrusted the printing plates to two of his partners._

“I’m going to guess the partners are T.S. and your dad, Noona?” Zelo assumed. Kim nodded absently and continued reading as well.

Zelo turned back to the screen, this time summarizing aloud. “So after this, we know what happened, as it says here. Rodriguez returned five years later, demanding the plates back, but T.S. and Derek suspected him of returning under CIA orders to spy on them.”

“Was that true?” Kim inquired.

“Doesn’t matter now. Rodriguez showed himself to be a murderous bastard, so he his greed would have betrayed him anyway. T.S. and Derek did well to strike first, in my opinion, suspicions of CIA or not,” Yong-guk stated. Kim resumed her thoughtful expression as Zelo continued, scrolling down the screen.

“Sounds logical to me. Anyway, then T.S. hid the plates and cut all associations with Rodriguez. Derek followed suit. Embittered, Rodriguez decided to strike back with deadly force, aiming for Derek first—hmm, they list him here as Steven Park.”

“His main alias before we relocated to Puerto Rico,” Kim answered Zelo’s implied question.

“Right. So this was where Rodriguez…um, had your mother…” Zelo trailed off, but before Yong-guk could tell him to skip that part, Kim spoke, her voice flat.

“Killed. And then he kidnapped Andrea and did the same.” She was staring straight ahead at the screen but Yong-guk knew her memories were far away.

“I know reading this brings back bad memories for you. You don’t have to be here,” Yong-guk knew what she’d say in return though. He had seen that determination in her eyes before. Yong-guk sighed. “Get on with it, Zelo. We need to find out where he is.”

Zelo nodded.

He went on to detail how Derek and T.S. retaliated against Rodriguez: sabotaging his alliances and bankrupting his investments in the black market. Yong-guk remembered those missions. A bit of acting, electronic maneuvering, and Rodriguez’s accounts had been satisfyingly empty. Rodriguez had nowhere to go with the majority of his foundations gone, and his men killed. He had slunk away.

 _We mistakenly thought he was defeated,_ Yong-guk thought regretfully, _and we paid for that assumption._

“In 2012, Rodriguez resurfaced, having discovered that the plates were not in the possession of Steven Park, but rather Tae-sung Kim’s. He had his cohorts travel immediately to South Korea, where he kidnapped and killed—“ Zelo cut off again, but not because his discretion towards Kim this time.

He peered at Yong-guk cautiously. Yong-guk merely gestured with one hand for Zelo to continue.

“Ahem. He had Kayla killed…” Zelo paused, but Yong-guk was determined. If Kim could remain stoic through this, surely he could. Zelo should know that. And apparently, he did, because he barreled on, “However, T.S. remained unresponsive to the action, and Rodriguez retreated. Hyosung’s report speculates that Rodriguez thinks Derek had the plates all along and wishes to plan out his next move. His whereabouts remain unknown during this time. Some sources whisper that he has undergone forensic facial approximation procedures in order to escape image capture detection.”

“What’s that now?” Kim voiced.

“Facial reconstruction, the process of recreating the face of a certain individual. It makes it more difficult for us to track his dirty ass,” Yong-guk spoke.

“But the ‘forensic’ part...refers to that process the police use to identify decayed dead bodies based on their skull structures,” Zelo blanched, “How can skull alterations be done on an live person? That's so disturbing!” Yong-guk nodded.

“Legally, you can't. But there are many ways for plastic surgeons to perform such procedures on those willing to spend tremendous amount of money,” a deep voiced added from the doorway.

Yong-guk turned around to see Derek entering and resealing the door behind him.

“Good to see you, Kim,” Derek greeted, then turned to nod at both Yong-guk and Zelo.

Kim, however, remained silent. She stood against the monitor table with both arms crossed, staring at her father contemplatively as he spoke to Zelo.

“Out with it, Kim. What is it?” Yong-guk pried. She glanced at him, and then sighed softly, a gentle blow of air that stirred her long tresses.

“In a way, this whole mess started because T.S and my father betrayed Rodriguez,” she said, “Yes, Carlos killed his partner because of greed and power, but then, my father and T.S…. They were willing to put the ones they love in jeopardy for the same reasons. All to retain what Carlos had.”

“Rodriguez would have betrayed them sooner or later,” Yong-guk reiterated.   
  
“Fine, but that’s not what ended up happening. And in the meantime, my _mother_ , my best friend and T.S's daughter _Kayla_ were the sacrificial lambs in exchange for that power,” Kim hissed in answer. She suddenly swayed, and Yong-guk reached with a steadying grip to her elbow. “Sorry, I’m dizzy with disgust, it seems. …What kind of world do we live in, Yong-guk?” She added in a small voice, “Sam was right. This is all crazy.”

Yong-guk wanted to agree with Kim, if only to make her feel better. But he didn’t agree, not really. How could he reject the only life he’d ever embraced? The only way he knew how to avenge Kayla’s death? For both his sake, and T.S.’s sake. Crazy or not, this was just the way Yong-guk knew he functioned, and he was _excellent_ at it.

Derek realized then how quiet his daughter was being. He made his way over to Kim and patted on her back, “You gotta increase the security to this place, my daughter. None of you seemed to notice my entrance.”

“Actually I saw you and your men pulling off the highway in those left-hand monitors, but since it was you, I didn't think it would be important to take action,” Zelo said bluntly, rewinding one of the feeds to show the moment he was talking about.

Derek was caught by the eighteen-year-old's words. Zelo knew it, too, because he smirked cheekily. “I'm the eyes and brain behind our ops. You shouldn't underestimate me, Mr. Le...urr.. Mr. Park.”

“Mr. Le is fine, you impertinent brat,” he acknowledged jokingly.

“Father,” Kim interrupted. Derek turned to her, aware that she was in no mood to jest. Yong-guk wondered for a moment if she was going to have it out with it then and there about the sacrifices and choices he’d made to get them here, but in the end, Kim simply exhaled and shook her head. “So who did have the plates during all of this?” She waved her hand at the screens to indicate the long biography.

“T.S., at first,” Derek explained, “Rodriguez went after us, thinking we had it. After we destroyed his foundations, I relocated to Puerto Rico to get a break from it all. I wanted you to have a simpler life, Kim. You were in such a delicate mindset—“

“I got better, Dad,” Kim interposed, “and you needed the break, too, don’t forget.”

Derek nodded acquiescence. “What you didn’t know was that T.S. sent the plates with me when we moved, for safe keeping.”

“So when Carlos killed Kayla, he was attacking the wrong person yet again?” Yong-guk couldn’t help but clarify. It made his blood boil. No, it wasn’t bad enough that Rodriguez and his blasted man Rafael murdered their loved ones, he couldn’t even do his research and go after the right target! _Not that it would’ve been better if he had killed Kim instead of Kayla,_ Yong-guk mentally chided himself.

“Zelo, that’s enough for now.” Yong-guk was angry, and he knew it showed in the way his voice snapped. “Was there anything in there about Rafael?”

“Rafael?” Derek questioned.

“Yes, Rafael Juancalos. You know him?” Derek shook his head no.

Yong-guk sighed. Calling in favors it was, then. He stepped forward to the desk, picking up the phone they used for long-distance, and dialed Hyosung’s number.

“Hyosung's speaking!” the other line connected promptly. The female voice on the other end was rather chipper for the time of day.

“Hyosung, I need you to look up someone for me.” Yong-guk cut to the point.

“Didn’t I already send Zelo that zip file? Who is it you need now?”

“His name is Rafael Juancalos,” Yong-guk replied. Some typing sounds ensued, followed by hums.

“Nope, he hasn’t popped up recently in our databases, unfortunately,” Hyosung announced.

“Great.” Yong-guk’s mind shifted into planning mode, “Well, then, I guess it’s time for a game of hide and seek.”

* * *

 

_Location: Unknown_

Rafael Juancalos tapped his mouth with his phone thoughtfully as he replayed the voicemail again.

 _“Sir, they just jumped off the yacht! Both Manuel and Diego are dead. What are we supposed to do now—“_ The male voice on the phone cuts off there, interrupted by a fiery-sounding explosion, static, and the message ends abruptly.

“Please,” a small voice spoke from below him. Rafael returned his gaze to the blond twenty-something girl sprawled out on the floor. “Please, let us go,” she managed to say between her tears.

“ _Tsk_. How did you get that gag out of your mouth, little one?” Rafael purred. He reached down to replace it. Gently, almost endearingly. Terrified eyes met his malevolent ones.

“Now is not the time to fret, all right? Your pleading comes later,” he reassured her. The girl cried more in response, fat gobs of tears trailing down her cheeks now. “First, I have to take care of your boyfriend over there. He gets to die first.” She whimpered in response.

Rafael had bound her quite tight; she couldn’t escape, or interfere. Instead, he turned to the man unconscious by the sofa where he had fallen when he’d tried to fight back.

Rafael smiled to himself, easily ignoring the woman’s renewed struggling. First, he’d finish this job. Then, he’d call Carlos and see what his orders were in regards to B.A.P.

Those boys were getting interesting.

()()()()()()()()()()

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who liked Rafael, well here he is. Sorry this chapter didn't have more of him, or more action, for that matter. We debated whether combining it with the previous chapter wasn't better off but ended up...meeehhh. 
> 
> Just click on, and you'll get there, I promise!


	26. Hide and Seek, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can't leave without saying goodbye, can you? BAP gear up on their way to Rafael Juancalos, Carlos' right-hand man.

* * *

Eli Kennedy was pissed.

First, his investigation of _Le Yacht_ had stalled when all of the data on the charter’s computer servers suddenly deleted itself. Finding the remains of sabotage at a nearby bunker was only more maddening. Eli could tell someone had been there and where their vehicle had parked, but the tracks grew indiscernible once they reached the highway.

Which had left him hours of interrogations with the news crew and local businesses, pumping information regarding the Le’s and what sort of business they ran this past year. It had grown late; many people had been reluctant to speak with him.

Then Agent Hampton had called him with news of Gonzalez’s men converging on a northern dock. Eli called for transportation only to find that the local police couldn’t acquire a tricycle, much less a jet ski. _Was it too hard to get a single boat!_ Eli had fumed to himself.

Apparently so, because by the time Eli arrived, Agent Hampton was yelling himself hoarse at their Spanish translator on why it was taking so long. One look at each other and Eli had stepped forwards to do the translating himself. The local man clearly did not know enough English to do the job.

It was as Eli was trying to commandeer a fisherman’s boat that an orange fire ball erupted in the night sky upon the horizon. The shock wave that followed rocked him backwards into the boat’s owner, who flailed in fright as he yelled for God’s mercy. The man’s arm knocked Eli sharply on the nose, causing him to reel away to the left, trip over a loose rope, and plunge into cold, salty water.

There was a lot of yelling after that (in English, because at that point, Eli didn’t give a damn whether anyone understood him or not).

They were so close to catching B.A.P., only to fall short at the last minute every damn time.

Now, Eli stood on the threshold of what was obviously a torture chamber. The rank odor from the sewage filled the air, suffocating and dense. However, what his nose smelled was nothing compared to what his eyes saw.

One of the Puerto Rican policemen walked up behind him and glanced down at the pit. Not a second later, he hastily leaned over the railing and vomited up the contents of his stomach. Eli wrinkled his nose at the acidic mess, but couldn’t blame the guy. Seeing such a desecrated corpse—or, rather, lumps of half-chewed bones and organs—was not a sight one could easily forget.

Turning, Eli ascended the stairs, thoughts churning. _How are we going to find these criminals now?_ He sighed, running his hands through his hair. Agent Hampton was up by the car, waiting for him to return with news of what he’d found in this hideout. Better go give him his gruesome report.

* * *

 

_The Le’s Safe House, Edge of El Yunque National Forest_

Kim awoke in total darkness. Blinking, she waited a moment as the blurry shapes of her bedroom came into focus. It was still too dark to see even the opposite wall and Kim had to guess that the power was out somehow.

There was no source of light next to her except for the glow emanating from her mobile. Confused and restless, Kim swung off the bed and managed to make her way to the door, wrenching it open. More darkness met her. She stepped warily into the hallway, then stopped as a gray haze formed ahead.

Kim peered at the shimmer. Slowly, the faint figure of a girl came into view, standing with her back facing Kim.

“Hello?” Kim asked, her voice barely a whisper.

The girl startled and she turned her face half-way around. Kim squinted at the profile. Holding her phone high, she pointed the light toward the mysterious individual. Instantly, the familiar features of her old best friend came into focus.

“A...Andrea...?” Kim cold feel the tremors run up her spine.

The girl whirled and ran down the hall.

“Wait! Andy!” Kim yelled and ran after Andy, abandoning rational thought. The only thing that mattered was catching up to Andy. Saving her! “Andy! Don't run away, it's dangerous out there!”

Kim chased her friend, feet pounding the floor, yet not making a sound. Through another door they ran, entering upon a dazzlingly luminous room. Andy abruptly stopped in the center of the space. Kim halted as well, lingering at the door, breaths heaving. Did she really run so far? Kim couldn’t remember.

She looked up, meeting Andy's eyes.

“Why...Why didn't you come sooner?” Andy spoke in a shaky, almost distant voice. Then she began to cry. The sounds of her weeping echoed off the walls, growing in volume.

“Andy... no, I-I meant to come sooner,” Kim explained—or pleaded, she supposed—as she edged carefully towards her best friend. She feared the walls would collapse; they shook so violently.

Her hand finally touched Andy’s arm, and she wrapped her fingers desperately around the limb. Andy’s body suddenly started to crumble. Piece by piece, like an eroding cliff face, her arms and legs dropped to the floor. Kim was certain a terrified scream erupted from her throat, yet she could not hear it. All that reached her brain as she stared and stared at the mess on the ground was the booming of the walls as they, too, collapsed inward. She flung her arms over her head on instinct as chunks of cement plummeted around her.

Overwhelmed and horrified, she screamed again at the top of her lungs.

And this time, she heard herself.

Kim jerked and opened her eyes wide, arms grasping at the couch cushions. She found herself lying in the living room, soaked with sweat, heart thumping. Her mind finally caught up. That’s right. She had lain down to rest a bit here after that meeting with Zelo and Yong-guk and must have fallen asleep without realizing it.

“Nightmare?” Him-chan suddenly appeared by her side, sitting carefully down on the sofa next to her. Kim startled at the sound of his voice, but he ran a soothing hand down her head.

Kim swallowed drily, then stuttered, “I...uh... I..I...” Him-chan grabbed a tissue from the end table, handing it to her.

“Breathe into this. It's alright,” he whispered gently, “Just a dream, Kim.”

“It's not....just a dream, Him-chan....it's...” Kim struggled to explain, “...it's more like a haunting memory....” Kim looked down, trying to collect her thoughts and shake the remnants of the nightmare from her mind. She focused instead on slowing her gasps inside the tissue, just like her doctor instructed.

“You shouldn't let the past consume your thoughts like that.... it'll only cloud your judgment in your waking hours,” Him-chan stated, “Just let it go... slowly.”

“Easy for _you_ to say,” Kim snapped, looking up at him, “And we’ve been over this. The doctor’s told me as much, and, yes, I know better than to fall asleep with such thoughts on my mind. No, I don’t need my anxiety pill right now. And don’t go get Yong-guk, okay?”

Him-chan waited a beat after her tirade was over, then said, “I wasn’t going to call Yong-guk.”

His tone implied some heavy emotion in that statement, but Kim wasn’t quite sure what it was. She turned slightly, bringing her face-to-face with him, peering into his dark eyes. Him-chan was always so…quietly intense. It intrigued Kim more than she allowed herself to admit some days.

"Hey!" Young-jae broke the ambience, entering the room with a bounding step. Kim jerked back from Him-chan, trying not to seem guilty. _Cause there’s nothing to look guilty about! I need to get a grip,_ Kim thought firmly. Young-jae continued, "Let's go! Yong-guk hyung needs you guys in the command center."

Kim hurriedly stood up to follow.

* * *

 

When knocking on Sam’s door yielded no answer, Dae-hyun cautiously turned the handle and stuck his head in. Sam was lying on her side, facing away from the door so that the light from the hallway hit her smooth black hair, arrayed on the bed sheets. Dae-hyun swallowed nervously.

Would she still be angry with him?

One way to find out.

Taking a leaf from Young-jae’s book, Dae-hyun flung the door wide and announced, “Samantha!”

Sam yelped loudly and fell off the bed with a soft whump. _Oops._ Alarmed, Dae-hyun rushed around the bed. Sam was pushing herself off the ground, hair in her eyes, and blinking up at him.

“Dae-hyun! What the hell?” she exclaimed when she caught sight of him.

“Sorry, Sam! I didn’t mean that!”

“Then what did you mean, you jerk? I fell off the bed!”

“I…er,” Dae-hyun floundered for an explanation that didn’t sound as idiotic as I-couldn’t-think-of-a-less-awkward-way-to-wake-you-without-it-seeming-like-I-was-watching-you-sleep. “Here, let me help you up,” he said instead, reaching around Sam and grasping her waist.

Sam looked at him askance but let him settle her upright. Once they both recovered, Sam met his eyes. Dae-hyun could detect her contemplation of him, and he wondered whether he should speak first.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Sam spoke simultaneously.

“Oh, I mean--”

“No,” Sam interjected, “I’m the one who should apologize. I was…rude to you on the beach last night. You were only trying to make me comfortable…and I guess I was just too freaked out, you know? Needed to sort it all out in my head.”

Dae-hyun looked at her, astonished by the comprehensive apology. “Well, I…,” he began, then decided to bull his way through. This needed to be said. The topic would hang between them otherwise. “I wanted to apologize for what happened…at the hideout. But you were hurting yourself and I couldn’t let you, and I hope you know I would never take advantage of you maliciously and if you’d rather we never discuss it again, I can probably oblige—“

Sam kissed him.

On the cheek.

Nevertheless, Dae-hyun’s brain seemed to short circuit the moment her soft lips met his skin.

It was a chaste kiss, but warm and comforting, and when Sam drew back, Dae-hyun opened his eyes feeling the awkwardness wash away.

“It’s fine,” Sam whispered into the small space between their faces. She looked down shyly. _Is she blushing?_ Sam tilted her head to the side, her tousled hair hiding her cheek. “I…am grateful…that you were there to take care of me, even if the circumstances were not ideal.”

“Oh. Well. Good,” Dae-hyun managed to say. He wanted to kiss her again. Ah, but wasn’t there a meeting or something he had to get to? Dae-hyun shook his head to clear it.

“Dae-hyun…” Sam uttered, and suddenly she was pinning him with her gaze again. A decision hung in her brown eyes, nebulous and not yet made, almost like she wanted badly to tell him something else. Then she blinked and the moment was gone.

She smiled. “Don’t worry about me, okay? Consider the matter settled. No worries.”

“All right then. I won’t worry, but,” here Dae-hyun pulled up a hand and used it to tuck Sam’s hair behind her ear, “I hope…what passed between us…isn’t quite settled.”

Sam sucked in a breath, but kept silent. Dae-hyun smiled, pleased and a little bit giddy if he was honest with himself.

“Yong-guk hyung is going to yell at me if I don’t get going to that meeting now,” he said next, drawing his hand back.

“Meeting?” Sam inquired, stepping back from him as well.

“Yea, we have some unfinished business with the guys who attacked us—who attacked you,” Dae-hyun explained.

“You’re gonna go look for them?” she asked uncertainly.

Dae-hyun spoke while heading for the door, “Yes. They’ve much to pay for, believe me. But finding them will probably require some traveling and searching.”

Sam peered at him thoughtfully, but in the end, just said, “Good.” She shifted. “Be careful,” she said at last, quietly.

Dae-hyun couldn’t stop the smile that lit up his face as he left the room even if he tried. “Of course.”

* * *

 

Him-chan was the last of the trio to slide into the central room, right behind Young-jae and Kim. He wouldn’t lie to himself. He really wanted to have a certain, personal conversation with Kim—wanted to have it for quite a long time now—but the timing was far from ideal.

So, with a practiced mental shift, he boxed that particular emotion and set it to the back of his mind, focusing on the occupants of the room. Zelo sat at the desk, as usual, while Yong-guk, Young-jae, and Jong-up stood behind him, monitors arrayed for all to see. Kim was leaning against the wall, face twisted in concentration.

Him-chan made his way over to her and took up the space by her side, but did not touch her.

Zelo opened a large digital world map, displaying it on all six monitors. Several red dots blinked in different countries, most likely indicating the different locations that Yong-guk intended to send them to. Him-chan easily recognized a couple he had discussed with Yong-guk beforehand.

“Gang's all here?” Yong-guk began, but then paused, “Where is Dae-hyun?”

“He'll be down soon; he just went to check up on Sam,” Zelo answered, gesturing at the computer, which clearly meant he saw them on a security camera. Sometimes, it unnerved Him-chan to know how much Zelo could see. With his impeccable memory, he never forgot anything either. Good thing he was on their side, really.

“Does anyone else find it odd that Dae-hyun’s showing Samantha such obvious care?” Kim asked.

“Not really, not since 'Spring Cleaning,’ anyway,” Young-jae smirked, referring to their previous mission.

Yong-guk cleared his throat and glared at B.A.P’s most antagonistic member. Him-chan tried to hold back his laughter, though a few small snorts escaped.

“Wishing you had taken my job in that mission, Young-jae?” Dae-hyun spoke as he opened the door. Him-chan raised one eyebrow at the younger man’s satisfied tone. Apparently his talk with Sam had gone well.

Young-jae was about to throw a comeback when Yong-guk interrupted him.

“Enough you two. Now that's everyone's all here, listen carefully. Hyo-sung did us a favor by gathering information on Carlos Rodriguez and his right-hand man Rafael Juancalos. Rafael is the main operator of kidnapping incidents for Rodriguez’s cause. That, and cleaning up witnesses and liabilities. Apparently his boss gives him quite a lot of leeway in regards to method. The man likes to toy with his food, let’s say,” Yong-guk summarized.

Him-chan wondered for a moment whether he dared to apply that description to Yong-guk. In some instances, he could see flashes of the same potential for sadism in his friend. _But it’s not that bad. Not yet._

“If we catch him, we will find Carlos,” Yong-guk finished.

“If he's willing to talk that is,” Him-chan added.

“Rafael will talk,” Yong-guk assured, voice full of portent, “However, the only problem is that we don't exactly know his whereabouts as of right now. As you all can see,” Yong-guk gestured to the map, “these are the areas that we’ve determined likely. I'm gonna need you guys to split up into pairs and try to hit as many of these locations as you can.” Yong-guk’s voice hardened. “Bring him back alive no matter what it takes.”

The group silently observed the map, waiting for Yong-guk to elaborate.

“Young-jae and Jong-up, you guys will be going to Chicago. Dae-hyun and Zelo, you guys head to Beijing. Barcelona is for Him-chan and Kim. I’ll take the last location: Mexico City. If anyone gets lucky and manages to visually pinpoint Rafael, call the rest of us for backup immediately. Any questions?” Youg-guk concluded, turning back to survey his hit-squad.

Him-chan glanced around as well. Six eager faces met Yong-guk, and their leader smiled.

“Okay! Go to it! Your rides await you at the airport.”

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of everything in this chapter--okay, okay, except for some gun-blasting action, but every action bit needs its setup; where do you think BAP is going to go do right now?? 
> 
> Nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed the bit of Eli humor and/or Dae-hyun fluff, whichever you prefer. 
> 
> Again, we own nothing. Bye!


	27. Hide and Seek, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BAP and Kim split up in pairs to research Rafael and Carlos' likely locations. From Spain to Mexico, USA to China, they've got the chance to do what they do best as T.S.'s mafia hit-squad.

* * *

The gang filed out of the room to gather their individual belongings. Kim grabbed her set of keys and straightened from her spot on the wall.

“Oh Kim!” Yong-guk called, “Didn't you say that Sam was from the States? Which one is it? Maybe I can just drop her off before I swing back around Mexico,” he suggested.

Kim hesitated for a second, but shook her head. “I don't want her of out my sight until this whole thing is resolved.”

“You're going to Barcelona. She'll be out of your sight anyways,” Yong-guk argued.

Kim rolled her eyes. She hated it when Yong-guk gave her a hard time. He knew quite damn well how important Samantha's safety was to Kim. He was just being a smart aleck right now. Kim supported Yong-guk whenever Kayla was in danger in the past. Why couldn't he just do the same for her in regards to her friend's safety this time? She wanted to bring that point up and throw it at his face, _but on second thought is it really worth it starting a fight right now_? She just sighed and went for a conciliatory statement.

“What I meant is that Sam is safer here in our house. I will personally bring her back to the U.S when Rafael and Rodriguez are dead,” Kim replied decisively.

Yong-guk sighed, “Have it your way then.” He left the room looking disgruntled. On one hand, Kim could understand. Samantha was a civilian, and having to care for her in the midst of their mission was one extra responsibility Yong-guk did not want. However, he wasn’t callous enough to order Kim to do anything. At least, Kim was pretty sure he wasn’t.

 _Though if he did, he can’t exactly boss me around anyway,_ Kim thought in satisfaction.

She walked to Samantha’s room and gently opened the door, intending to say goodbye for now. Sam seemed to be soundly as sleep, though, her back to the door, so Kim scribbled a quick note on Sam’s mirror, and then backed out of the room silently.

A soft shuffle to her left brought her attention over and up. Hector stood at the end of the hall, having just left his room, Kim presumed. He must have noticed the ado of everyone leaving and woken up.

“Shh....” Kim reassured him and curled her fingers to direct him towards her.

“We're heading out for a few missions. I'll leave Samantha in your care, okay? This is a very secure location; you two should be safe here. There are guards, all fully trained. Do not leave this place until I get back. You hear me?” Kim addressed him commandingly.

Hector stared at her in doubt. Kim could see the thought of escape flicker across his eyes but she sincerely hoped Sam’s trust in her would persuade Hector to trust Kim in return. Finally, he nodded slowly.

“Fine, but I can't promise you. I doubt this place is really ‘safe,’ so the moment I sense something wrong, I'll take Samantha with me,” he answered.

 _Well, that was honest,_ Kim mused. She didn’t think he’d manage to escape, really. He didn’t seem like a computer expert. The alarms would alert Kim, or at least Zelo, of any attempts to leave the house. “We don’t mean you or Sam any harm. I promise,” Kim stated.

“Yea, _you_ might mean it, but sorry if I’m not inclined to trust the words of a gang of international thieves,” Hector countered. Kim frowned.

“And how is it that you know that?” came Yong-guk’s scrutinizing question as he rounded the corner. His brows were creased with suspicion.

Hector threw back his shoulders as Yong-guk approached. “I didn’t for sure. But I do now.”

Yong-guk eyed him, bearing his menacing mask, but Hector did not flinch. Kim was kind of impressed. “Maybe you’ve been talking to the police?” Yong-guk ventured.

Hector scoffed. “Would _la policía_ bother talking to a poor _huérfano_? Especially the men of this city?” Yong-guk only raised his eyebrows. Hector finally averted his gaze, shoving his hands in his ratty cargo pants pockets. “Don’t worry. My only concern is Sam’s safety.

Yong-guk stared at Hector silently for a couple seconds longer, no indication of his believing Hector’s claims or not, then turned to Kim. “We have flights to catch.” He spun on his heel and headed for the front door.

Kim nodded once at Hector, and followed, catching up to Yong-guk at the main entrance. “Why do you have to give him such a hard time?” she asked, exasperated.

“Because I don’t trust him. Obviously, Kim,” Yong-guk replied, striding ahead. _Damn his long legs,_ Kim groused as she sped up.

“He hasn’t done anything.”

“That we know of. The authorities have been behind us since we’ve arrived here. Even the CIA. Zelo received a silent alert from our hideout an hour ago. They’ve been there. I want to know how they’re doing so well.” Yong-guk slid the key into his Veyron and twisted.

“Gee, you’d think the CIA could possibly be, oh I don’t know, good at what they do?” Kim pointed out sarcastically.

“They’re good at what they do because they’re lying, sneaky bastards,” Yong-guk argued.

Kim raised an eyebrow. “You’re one to talk.”

Yong-guk gave her a look, then smirked. “Well, yea,” he admitted proudly. Kim rolled her eyes. She did that a lot whenever B.A.P. was around, truly.

Him-chan sidled up next to Kim just then, opening his mouth to speak, “In any case, your suspicions are premature. They have not caught us yet. And Zelo assured you they have no idea where the safe house is, right?”

“Correct. I wouldn’t have approved our reconnaissance missions otherwise, Him-chan,” Yong-guk replied.

“Naturally,” Him-chan assented, “Kim, you ready to go? I have your bag in the car already.”

“Oh, thanks,” Kim smiled at him.

“See ya later,” Yong-guk waved and slid into the driver’s seat.

Kim and Him-chan used one of the Mercedes to quickly get on the road. While Kim did feel some apprehension for Sam as they departed, spotting her father’s guards at the end of the drive reassured her some.

The sky outside was rapidly dwindling into dusk, the black sweep of the night following them as they drove west back to San Juan. The empty roads slowly gave way to a few street lights, some of them flickering on and off. The temperature was a mix of the misty cool air from the park trees and the moist breeze off the ocean.

The pair arrived at the airport last. The Bombardier Global Express XRS awaited on the tarmac ahead as Kim disembarked from the car and grabbed her purse. Young-jae and Jong-up’s private flight had already left first, followed by Dae-hyun and Zelo. Kim could see Yong-guk’s plane taxiing to the take-off runway.

“It's gonna be a long ride,” Him-chan muttered, settling himself into the wide, tan leather seat. Kim sat down silently next to him. Her thoughts kept going back to Sam, even as their jet set off into the sky.

* * *

 

_6800 kilometers and 8.5 hours later_

“This is your captain speaking. We are beginning our descent and will be arriving in Barcelona, Spain in 30 minutes. Please keep your seat belts securely fastened until the plane reaches the gate. The current temperature is 14 degrees Celsius with 25% humidity. Arriving time will be approximately 7:30 am local time.”

Kim squinted her eyes against the warm sunlight creeping through the jet's window. She had slept for the majority of their non-stop flight to Spain. It was times like these she cherished the ability to take private jets. No long layovers or over-packed 747’s.

She slowly sat up, stretching her arms and yawning like a satisfied cat. _It's been a long time since I had such peaceful rest._ Kim wondered again about her nightmares. Perhaps she didn’t encounter them on an airplane? Then she looked over and realized Him-chan was slumped beside her in his own seat, still fast asleep.

She felt her face heat. That’s right. She had finally given in and used his lap as a pillow when he’d laughed at her every time she started dozing and knocked heads with him. _Could he be the reason why…?_ She wondered. But now was not the time to explore this topic.

“Hey!” Kim shook Him-chan’s closest shoulder with one hand. “C'mon, wake up. We're here.”

Him-chan peeked one eye slightly open. He groaned softly, but roused and exchanged a ‘good morning’ with her. Then he leaned forward to touch his toes, stretching out his lower back. Kim resolutely did not gape at the exposed skin as he bent over. She did _not_!

Luckily, the flight attendant came by then to do the final preparations for landing. Kim quickly focused her eyes out the window, taking in the sprawling sight of the approaching city. Unlike most European metropolises, Barcelona was constructed in a pleasing grid-like pattern, the brown squares intersected diagonally by long, straight boulevards.

Their jet touched down smoothly at El Prat Barcelona Airport twenty-five minutes later. When the seat belt sign blinked off, Him-chan excused himself to the restroom. While he was gone, Kim brushed her hair and checked her face in the mirror, touching up a bit of make-up. _What I really need is to brush my teeth_ , she sighed, _Oh well, this would have to do._

She stood and smoothed the front of her light gray blouse, adjusting the thin, silver necklace she had paired with it. The jewelry complimented the small chrome buckles on her knee high boots. Kim was checking the pockets of her black skinny jeans when Him-chan returned.

“Always the trend setter, hmm?” he mused, looking her up and down. Kim glanced up, about to sniff like a princess in jest, when she noticed Him-chan’s appearance. He had changed out of his loose T-shirt into a black slim-fit oxford with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Caramel-colored chinos accented his legs and ended at the floor with the same leather ankle boots he’d worn before.

Kim realized she was gaping and snapped her mouth shut. “New shirt?” she tried to sound casual. She knew she failed when Him-chan gave her knowing smile.

“No, just an old one. In fact, you picked this shirt out for me a couple years ago,” he said. Kim blinked.

“Oh. The Armani one? I had forgotten about that shopping trip,” she admitted.

“Yes, that one. It’s quite comfortable.”

“Oh. Well. You…you look good in it,” she coughed. Him-chan eyed her amusedly.

Finally, he flicked his hair to the side and said, “I look good in many things.” Kim rolled her eyes and flicked his ear after that, commenting that he was starting to sound as arrogant as Yong-guk. He denied it, of course, as he collected their bags.

After completing the customs form and skipping the security process outright (mafia connections had its perks), Kim and Him-chan got into the black Mercedes SUV prepared for them at the tarmac.

“Zelo texted me,” Kim announced, sliding her thumb over her cell phone, “he said to check our emails when we get to the hotel,” Kim read. Him-chan nodded and continued to drive.

“Did you have a good rest?” he eventually asked, glancing over at her briefly. Kim looked up from her cellphone and met his eyes, but saw no smugness, only polite curiosity. She turned away quickly.

“Yes.”

“No dreams?”

Kim shook her head lightly.

“That's good,” Him-chan smiled, and the concern in his tone made Kim echo his expression.

Kim knew it was strange, but somehow by just looking at Him-chan often reminded her of Kayla. Rather, moreso the warm relationships between Kayla, Him-chan, and Yong-guk. Those three had known each other first, and were the original trio of friends. Whenever they were together, they’d smile those warm smiles all the time. She never did pry into their business though, and wouldn’t now, except…Him-chan knew Kayla, too, not just Yong-guk.

“Did you know that Sam was Kayla's best friend?” she asked.

Him-chan looked over again, surprised, “She was? Was that the reason why Sam was captured? Because she knew Kayla?” Him-chan wondered, “Still... I don't really see the connection.”

“Maybe because Carlos assumed that Kayla had the plates back then. They thought she hid them somewhere in her apartment, and that's why they broke in,” Kim speculated.

“But they found nothing…and thought that they could make a little money out of Sam by smuggling her to Puerto Rico for prostitution?” Him-chan continued.

“Gonzalez didn’t seem like a man who would pass on anything that could bring him a little more profit,” Kim concurred, “All because she roomed with Kayla.”

“Kayla would not have endangered her purposefully, Kim,” Him-chan reasoned, “She was much like you in some ways. I bet she wanted Sam to be safe just as much as you do now.”

“Yea. I know.”

“So…does Samantha know about…Kayla’s death?” Him-chan inquired, turning down another lane.

Kim started, “Oh. Huh. I guess I didn’t tell her. Oh, but how would I tell her, Him-chan? It would just be more bad news for someone who has been though a lot of bad news personally.”

“Don’t tell her, then,” Him-chan suggested, “At least not until all this over.”

Kim looked at him gratefully, “I’m glad you understand.” He returned her smile.

They arrived at the hotel soon after. The pair checked in and found their room easily enough. It was a single bedroom suite with a full size living room, kitchen, and a bathroom lavishly equipped with a roman bathtub and a huge glass shower stall. The double doors led to a balcony with a beautiful landscape view of the city. It could very well be a spectacular vacation spot.

“Son of a bitch. I forgot my purpose in coming here already,” Him-chan teased. Kim chuckled as she walked past him into the bedroom.

“You're getting the couch,” Kim declared in response, laying her briefcase on the bed and pulling out her laptop. Zelo’s email included files that were much easier to see on a seventeen-inch screen than her phone’s tiny one. The map outlined the areas that Yong-guk wanted them to investigate, including names of contacts. They supposedly had information about Rafael’s recent stops here in Barcelona.

“How thoughtful of him.” Him-chan leaned over her shoulder to survey the map as well.

“Yep. Now, let's get to it!” Kim announced.

* * *

 

_Chicago, America_

Jong-up tightened the hood on his coat against the biting gusts of wind. January in Chicago consisted of freezing temperatures and alarmingly high snow drifts, apparently. Their flight had been delayed by four hours, and he and Young-jae had had to lounge about in Houston International too long.

At least, Jong-up assumed it had taken too long, because Young-jae had started pacing the airport in agitation and arguing with the flight desk clerk. Sometime during that Jong-up had fallen asleep, so he didn’t know what sort of trouble Young-jae had gotten to afterwards.

He did remember waking and re-boarding their private jet, falling asleep again—because sleeping was such a simple thing to do; Jong-up seriously thought Young-jae should try it more often instead of getting so stressed out—then waking up as they landed at O’Hare.

Now he was walking up the steps to the front door of the Hotel Sax, carefully avoiding treacherous ice patches. Jong-up wondered mildly what kind of salt they used here to melt the ice on the sidewalks. Were they different than the stuff they spread on the actual roads?

“Oy, Jong-up! Why the hell are you staring at the street? Hurry up and get inside. We need to drop off our stuff and get going. We’re late you know!” Young-jae hollered from the revolving door. He didn’t seem to care that he had blocked it so that no one else could use it to enter or exit the building.

The fact that there was only one door didn’t seem very practical to Jong-up. Easier to defend in a firefight, he supposed, but crap for quick escapes if need be. The tactical disadvantages alone—

“Jong-up!!” Young-jae interrupted his thoughts this time by grabbing his arm. “C’mon!” he whined, “I _hate_ the cold!”

* * *

 

_Beijing, China_

San Juan was twelve whole hours behind Bejing. Add that time difference to their flight duration (twenty-three hours total not including two stops for fuel), and that made for an extremely jet-lagged Dae-hyun.

Regardless of the meager amounts of shut-eye Dae-hyun had managed to catch in transit, he had been ready to pass out once he and Zelo reached their posh Chinese hotel. In fact, Dae-hyun had actually flopped over onto the bed more than ready to embrace dreamland when Zelo burst through the door, reminding him loudly about Yong-guk’s extra side mission he’d assigned them.

Dae-hyun had groaned in protest but knew Zelo’d been right. He was rarely wrong after all.

So now, at the ass crack of dawn, Beijing time, Dae-hyun strode onto the pre-appointed location: an abandoned oil factory. Zelo had shoved a steaming cup of tea into Dae-hyun’s hands before they left, sticking around to ensure he drank it all. Then, on the road, he had made him drink a nasty energy shot that Zelo had concocted himself in order to stay up late doing mass amounts of research. Whatever it was, Dae-hyun was still thirty-five percent positive it might kill him in a few hours.

For now, the chemicals rushed through his brain, honing his perceptions and highlighting details of his memory like bright points of light.

This oil factory used to be a successful and thriving family business passed down generations in the old days. Twenty years ago, due to poor leadership, the company went bankrupt. The owner sought his own death in the face of all the debt his family owed. The rest of his kin abandoned the factory and it now served as a central business locale for the Chinese mafia.

Secluded far away from the lively and exciting city of Beijing, the decrepit buildings stood in a charcoal landscape, the drab colors made starker by the clear morning sun. There were warehouses aplenty, with mechanical machines and tools lying on the ground. Scattered along both sides of the street lay old cars, some with their hoods missing, revealing complicated yet delicate machinery.

Dae-hyun came to a stop beside one of the large garage doors and pulled out his phone. It barely caught a signal before showing ‘connection lost’ once more. Dae-hyun would have sighed, but for the permeating smell of used oil and melted metal in the air. Instead, he tapped his earpiece again.

“Hyung—can you—me?” Zelo was apparently trying to reach him, but static chopped up his words.

“Somewhat.” More crackles.

“—Has—sh—up?” Zelo asked.

“What?” Dae-hyun put a hand over his ear and stepped into a more open area, away from the warehouse.

“Has anyone—shown—up?” Zelo spoke slowly to force the words through the static interference.

A shifting of gravel drew Dae-hyun’s eyes around. He dropped his hands when he noticed the faint figures of two men walking toward him. “Yes, right now, in fact...”

“Okay—things are set here as well—good luck Hy--” Zelo stated. _None needed, Zelo,_ Dae-hyun thought to himself. This shouldn’t be too hard. He’d been with Yong-guk he last time they dealt with this particular sleazy mafia cohort. Granted Dae-hyun hadn’t spoken back then—Yong-guk had—but that had been four years ago.

The two men approached. They both looked in their mid-thirties, with close-cropped hair and permanently surly tilts to their mouths. Both stood slightly taller than Dae-hyun, and each wore black sleeveless denim jackets with torn jeans and combat shoes. The one with the thin mustache stepped closer to Dae-hyun, giving him a once-over.

“ _Well, well, ain't you a pretty one?”_ he teased in Mandarin as he patted Dae-hyun's left cheek lightly with an untrimmed hand. The other guy started to laugh. Dae-hyun allowed it for now, adopting a stoic expression. He fixed the man instead with a cold stare. The sleep-deprived circles under his eyes no doubt lent the necessary menace to his gaze. The second man stopped laughing.

 _“What can I do for you, little “princess?”_ Mustache-man continued obnoxiously, though he let his hand drop.

“I'm looking for a man called Chris Wong,” Dae-hyun replied coolly in English.

“Why?” he returned in the same language, though he looked warier now.

“Got a favor to ask from my boss.”

“What favor? Who's ‘boss?’ Who are you, boy?”

Dae-hyun gave him a look that implied the man was particularly vapid. “To answer your many nosy questions: none of your business, none of your business, and, oh look, none of your business.” His reply made the mustache on Mustache-man’s face twitch in irritation, like a caterpillar flopping on a twig. “And I don’t discuss business with guard dogs,” Dae-hyun added arrogantly.

The guy growled, reverting to Mandarin, and leaned into Dae-hyun's face, _“Who are you calling a guard dog, you little shit head?_ ” He started forwards but halted when he felt a hard object pressed deep into his stomach. Only then did he notice Dae-hyun had drawn his gun.

Dae-hyun looked the man square in his beady eyes. “I don't have time to play games with the likes of you. Now, you're either gonna take me to Wong or I'm gonna blow a hole in your fuckin’ stomach right here, and maybe then your friend behind you can borrow your mustache and wear it in memory of you at your funeral.” He cocked the bolt on his gun.

“Well, I see you guys have made quite an acquaintance with each other already,” Chris Wong broke the tension as he emerged from the warehouse. Dae-hyun diverted his eyes to the new figure.

Wong was a tall, dark-haired man whose age ranged around Yong-guk's or older. However, unlike Yong-guk, the man’s wrinkles made him look farther on in years than he was. He wore a white V-neck under a black vest, over which hung a gaudy golden medallion. Khaki pants and a pair of black Louis Vuitton loafers finished the ensemble.

“Dae-hyun, right?” Wong acknowledged genially. Dae-hyun nodded curtly and holstered his weapon. “I've been expecting you. Come!” He snapped his fingers, gesturing for Dae-hyun to follow him. Dae-hyun raised an eyebrow at the man’s superior attitude, but did so. They walked through the open garage door, leaving the two guards lingering by the entrance.

“The boys out there giving you a hard time?” Wong leered. Dae-hyun had described the man years ago as sleazy and he couldn’t deny that four years only abated that trait by a fraction. He did not let that thought show on his face.

“Nah, they were really cute,” Dae-hyun replied. Wong merely laughed it off.

They exited the vast space of the hangar bay and into a smaller area. Sparse furniture occupied the thin rug someone had salvaged and brought in here. The sun was beginning to clear the horizon shifting pastel hues onto the layers of clouds Dae-hyun could glimpse through the room’s high windows. Dae-hyun's ear piece cleared, the static no longer crackling. _Good._

 _“Don’t worry, Dae-hyun. I’ve got you on screen. And by the way, part one was completed,”_ Zelo informed him.

“All right, let me see it,” Wong demanded.

Dae-hyun acquiesced, setting the briefcase he’d been carrying onto the low table and opening it. Inside, bound stacks of hundred dollar bills filled the case. Wong inspected it greedily.

“You'll get the other half once the favor's been fulfilled,” Dae-hyun explained, shutting the briefcase and handing it over. Wong grabbed it happily.

“You got them bills from your plates?” He smirked. “Looked pretty legit.” Dae-hyun gave him an impatient look. “All right, I'll do the ‘favor’ your boss wants of me. The job will be done by the end of this week,” Wong promised.

“Great!” Dae-hyun reached into his jacket, withdrawing another, slimmer case to give to Wong. Before letting it go, however, he peered straight into Wong’s eyes warningly, “You will not be…tempted, yes?”

Wong’s eyes widened, and his hand twitched, but he forced a smile. Dae-hyun let go.

Walking a couple steps away, Dae-hyun pulled out his phone to contact Zelo for his ride, even though he knew very well Zelo had already heard the entire conversation through his ear piece. However, Wong was not privy to that fact.

“It's rather difficult to get a good signal around here,” Dae-hyun commented as he hung up.

“Well, yeah, it comes with the location,” Wong explained, “besides, it's not like I'm running a legit business here, you know? My partners are all crooks and corrupted cops, gotta be extra careful,” Wong finished speaking as he handed the briefcase of money over to Mustache-man. Dae-hyun smirked at him as he passed back out the hangar door.

“I hear ya,” Daehyun agreed, “Can’t trust anybody these days.”

“Let me show you out. Can I call a car for you?” Wong asked, all genial.

Suddenly the unmistakable sound of a helicopter overhead reached their ears. Wong and his two goons crouched in alarm. Dae-hyun merely shook his head and pointed his finger up at the sky.

“Nah that's OK. My ride’s here.”

The helicopter set itself down on top of a building adjacent to the business warehouse. The men below all directed their gaze to the vehicle, able to discern several figures inside the copter.

“You have a lot of team members with you there?” Wong questioned.

Dae-hyun ignored him, saying instead, as he backed up and towards the helicopter, “Oh before I go…” Dae-hyun snapped his fingers. He knew that no one on the helicopter could possibly hear the snap, but he wanted to do it just to get back at Wong.

Zelo slid open the helicopter door, headphone set over his ears. Then he leaned backwards while two women were shoved into view. One was clearly older than the other. They seemed scared given the rifles aimed at their backs, but were unbound.

“Ying-ji! Pei-leing!” Wong yelled, recognizing his girlfriend and little sister. He gaped, flabbergasted, at Dae-hyun, who hurried to speak over his protests.

“Here's my end of the deal. As you mentioned, it’s hard to trust people nowadays, so…” Dae-hyun leaned in, “You make sure to do an exemplary job and then, you will give us what we asked for along with the original product. You'll get the girls back without a scratch in return. However, should you try anything funny to double cross us—keeping the original, for example…. Well, you still get to keep the bills, and you’ll still get those women back....but who knows in what condition.”

Dae-hyun pulled on his most polite grin, and inclined his head. By Wong’s expression, the man had been thoroughly threatened. _Point for me,_ Dae-hyun thought to himself.

He sauntered towards the rope ladder the helicopter pilot had rolled down for him and grabbed ahold. Once he climbed into the main hull, joining Zelo, the helicopter alighted into the cold air, hovering.

“You'll have ‘til the end of the week. Bye now!” Dae-hyun yelled back to a surprised Wong. The helicopter flew off.

* * *

 

 _la policía_ : the police

 _huérfano_ : orphan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hardest part of this chapter was keeping all the time zones straight. OMG, freakin' TIME ZONES! ARRGGHHH!
> 
> Also, some of you may have noticed that the chapters are getting longer. Like it? Love it?


	28. Hide and Seek, Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The CIA sift through the wreckage of what happened in Puerto Rico. Meanwhile, Him-chan and Kim zero in Rafael's base of operations in Barcelona. They grow just a little bit closer in the process.

* * *

Agent Hampton chewed his lip as he stared at the map of San Juan pinned on the bulletin board. He had been diligently investigating the incidents surrounding B.A.P. since they first landed in in Puerto Rico. At first, reports had streamed in steadily, either from well-to-do civilians or sycophantic local police. However, most of the complaints had pertained to Manuel Gonzalez and his shady dealings.

Now, if what Agent Kennedy had reported was true, that lane of investigation had also come to a dead end. Literally.

“Sir, we got visuals from the explosion site,” Joshua, one of the computer techs hailed. His English wasn’t the best, so what he actually said lilted oddly, but Hampton understood well enough.

Hampton stopped beside the rickety desk, watching the footage Joshua had obtained from the news cameramen. It showed the undulating waves of the Gulf of Mexico. Several police boats were anchored amongst the scrap metal and wooden planks floating haphazardly on the water surface. _Shit,_ Hampton frowned.

Joshua echoed his sentiment, “Holy shit! There's nothing left!”

“B.A.P. really knows how to get their message across, huh? Will this be powerful in enough to light a fire under Carlos’ butt?” Agent Casey mused, coming up beside

Hampton.

Hampton glanced over at him briefly. “Where’s the kid?”

“Kennedy? He left to take a shower the moment he returned from checking out that hideout. Looked like he had gone swimming with his clothes on, and in the sewer to boot,” Casey chuckled.

Hampton snorted, but didn’t comment on their young agent. Casey picked up on his mood, noticing how his hands tightened into fists. Years as his partner had made Casey attuned to his tells.

“If you’re concerned about losing B.A.P., don’t be. We’ve been here long enough to set up proper alert systems at the airport security. The moment Carlos or his man Rafael arrive to investigate Gonzalez’s demise, we’ll know about it, and likely beat B.A.P. to the punch,” Casey reassured.

“That’s if they come,” Hampton pointed out, “They could be lurking elsewhere, and I have a feeling T.S. has more ideas of where those two could be. His connections internationally…well, I doubt they’d be willing to talk to us. But, that’s not what I’m worried about actually.”

“Oh?”

Hampton sighed. “It’s my undercover asset. I haven’t received contact for a while now.”

“The agent Director Haversham is so worried about?”

“Yes. Last text transmission hinted that the yacht would be their get-a-way plan. And now I find that the yacht has been blown to bits. I don’t like it.” Hampton could practically feel his brow lines deepening into furrows. His wife was not going to like that. He reached up one hand to rub his forehead smooth.

“Nothing for it now,” Hampton said eventually, “Send out a team and start searching around San Juan. Looks like our mole has gone missing.” Hampton walked back towards his command station. At home, there would be a nice secluded office, or a loft above the computer stations—any place he could think in peace. Here, though, he got a corner, a bulletin board, and an armchair. _Luxury at its best._

“It's surprising that we have to send out a rescue team. I thought your guy's supposed to be one of the best agent in the field,” Eli Kennedy mused, sauntering into the surveillance room, his platinum hair still wet, but clean.

“Not a rescue, Agent Kennedy. I just need an update.” Hampton slumped down in his chair and grabbed his coffee mug. It was cold. He frowned.

“Fine,” Kennedy replied, “but if it were me out there, our team would be packing for home by now.”

Hampton would have liked to roll his eyes, but didn’t want to let on that he was so exasperated. “Patience,” he said instead.

“Patience? Efficiency is what’s impor—“ Kennedy was interrupted by the door banging open.

“ _Señores! Dónde está_ _el Agente_ Hampton?” the newcomer asked.

“ _Aquí_ ,” Agent Hampton replied, getting to his feet.

 _“Y quién es usted_?” Agent Kennedy demanded, crossing his arms.

 _“Me llamo Jose, Señor. Tengo una llamada para el Agente_ Hampton _. Sólo para el Agente_ Hampton,” Jose announced. He peered anxiously at Hampton from behind Kennedy’s tall physique.

Hampton could only imagine one person that call could be from. “I’ll take it.”

Jose nodded and handed Hampton an old cellular phone, one which Hampton recognized as CIA issue. They usually handed these out to local contacts for discrete communications. _Yep, it’s my agent, all right. This Jose must be the one spying on the Puerto Rican police all this time._

“Hampton,” he greeted, once he settled the phone against his left ear. “Where the hell have you been?”

 _“Too many places,”_ the voice on the other line stated.

“OK....are you in a secured location now?”

“ _You could say that_.”

Agent Hampton listened for a couple more minutes to his asset’s report, and hung up once they were finished. Turning around, he saw Agent Casey and Agent Kennedy waiting for the news. The latter looked like the questions were going to burst from his lips any second. Kennedy was definitely not used to being the follower in a mission.

“Apparently B.A.P. is splitting up to search for Rafael. Their planes left early this morning, in fact,” Hampton relayed.

“Just like you predicted,” Casey voiced, nodding.

“So…your agent is going to do…what?” Kennedy prompted, mouth twisted.

“Get us ahead of the game, of course,” Hampton hedged, enjoying the bit of frustration he could cause their young CIA upstart. _It’s what he gets for calling me ‘old,’_ Hampton reasoned.

“He’s gonna get us Rafael’s information?” Kennedy clarified.

“No. No one knows Rafael’s exact location yet, not even my agent. What I just found out, though, is the location of B.A.P.’s safe house.” Hampton smirked. _Oh yes, this will definitely aid the operation._ He pulled another map from a nearby drawer, this one smaller than the one on the board, but showed the entire island instead of just the capital.

“Casey, I need you and Kennedy to go check this out.” Hampton grabbed a marker and drew a red “X” on the map. “Reconnaissance only. I’m told the safe house has armed perimeter detail and a centralized security system. I don’t want to trigger anything that will pull B.A.P. back to Puerto Rico preemptively. Once my agent contacts us further with how to disable the defenses, we’ll consider moving in.”

After that, the three of them fleshed out the transit details and divided the number of men they’d have for back up. Although Kennedy was the one most visibly anxious to see progress, Hampton could admit, if only to himself, that he could not wait to get his hands on some actual results.

* * *

 

_Barcelona, Spain_

Him-chan and Kim strode in tempo down a side street next to _La Sagrada Familia,_ the famed towering cathedral of Barcelona, designed on one side by Gaudi, an eccentric architect with rather unique style, and on the other side, by another a completely different architect in the cubic style. It made for an intriguing building.

The two of them had just come from their meeting with the local gang’s informant. Meeting him had been…odd, as usual. _Las Ramblas,_ their rendezvous point, was a popular street and tourist spot for the sale of various domestic animals and Spanish trinkets, but mainly renowned for its dedicated street performers. They dressed in flowing costumes styled to look like sculpted stone and painted their skin and hair to reflect the same material.

There were Greek gods, Roman gladiators, and facsimiles of old Spanish royalty. If a traveler was not prepared, they could find themselves staring wonderingly at statue, only to see it suddenly blink and shift its gaze right onto them.

Him-chan smiled at the memory. The first time Kim had encountered them, she’d yelped and leaped backwards like a little girl. Yong-guk had laughed, Him-chan remembered, but the top-notched performer had only blinked once more and returned to his rigid pose.

Watching Kim eye the performers with suspicion this time around had been quite amusing. In the end, however, their informant had turned out to be a juggler. While making his way down _Las Ramblas,_ the brightly dressed man had sidled up next to Him-chan and Kim, whirling about them, acting as if they were part of his act.

He purposefully tossed one ball wild, right into Him-chan’s line of sight. Him-chan had caught it deftly, intending to return it to the man. As the juggler reached to take it, he’d pulled Him-chan close and whispered, “ _De nada, from La Amante,”_ in a gruff voice laden with the sibilant Catalan accent.

Then the juggler had pulled away, returning to the rest of audience with verbose declarations. Him-chan had opened his hand to find a slip of white paper left inside.

So now he and Kim were headed towards Rafael's headquarters in Barcelona, the location of which the note had disclosed to them. The specific man they were told to search for was one Agustin Lorenzo. Rafael had left him in charge, apparently.

Him-chan stopped in the shadow of an awning across from a large complex of apartments. Small balconies lined the beflowered windows above, voices drifting out of them, adding to the hum of city life.

“Ready?” Him-chan murmured.

“Been ready,” Kim replied.

They started forwards.

Lorenzo turned out to be an overconfident man, because not ten minutes later, the pair had infiltrated his home—via Kim’s playing foreigner-in-need and Him-chan’s lock-picking skills—and persuaded Lorenzo, at gunpoint, to follow them to the adjacent building.

There, Him-chan shoved him into an empty studio apartment on the top floor. The man spun around, raising his hands fearfully.

“ _Por favor_ , _no sé nada_. I just trying to do my job so Rafael no harm me or _mi familia_. You no can blame me for taking care of them,” Lorenzo simpered in broken English.

“So your boss left you in charge of importing and exporting kidnapped women and children?” Him-chan questioned as he traced his gun along Lorenzo’s cheek, circling the man.

Lorenzo began to sweat, “....I...I had no choice.”

“ _Dónde está su jefe ahora?”_ Kim demanded. The man frowned. Kim huffed, muttering under her breath about the differences between Spanish and Catalan, then repeated, “Where is your boss now?”

“Oh, ah…I no know....Rafael comes and Rafael goes...whenever he pleases. No my job to ask. Poor Lorenzo only do what Rafael asks,” Lorenzo answered with a shrug.

Him-chan walked over to Kim, who had also pulled out her own gun, a Browning 9mm. “I wonder how long he can pull this miserable act of his?” Him-chan whispered, “I don't buy it at all.”

Kim stared at the man kneeling in front of them, hands behind his head. “Neither do I.” With that she strolled up to Lorenzo, weapon aimed at him, and knelt on one knee to look him in the eye.

“I hear ‘rumors’ among the hoodlums in town that you are quite a lady-killer,” she intoned, clearly implying that she didn’t think they were rumors at all. “Quite literally. Going around at night, scoping every club in the city for high-school girls vulnerable to your empty words.”

“Wha...”

“I even heard the ‘story’ that you sold your own twelve-year-old little sister to a pub bar downtown for prostitution so that you could get yourself inside Rafael's circle of trust,” Kim continued, the disgust in her voice rising. Him-chan could see her grip on the 9mm tighten.

“How-how did you....” Lorenzo began to panic.

“From your mother,” Him-chan announced, “Yeah. We paid her a visit, too.” Lorenzo paled, knowing he was caught in his lie.

“We took care of all the crooks though, so don't worry about them bothering her anymore,” Him-chan continued speaking, idly checking the magazine in his gun. “Ah, well, you wouldn’t worry, though, would you? Since you tried to sell her off as well.” He looked into Lorenzo’s wide eyes, pleased that the man flinched at his expression. “Are you even human, _amigo_? Your own _mother_?”

“I, uh…she…” Lorenzo stammered. Kim cut him off.

“We’ll be shutting down your whorehouse and releasing the girls you've kidnapped thus far,” Kim said, “Your little business is finished.” She swung back to her feet, walking to the window as she spoke.

“What? No! NO! Please you can't do that! You can't...Rafael's gonna gut me alive. Please!” The man moved as if to stand up. Him-chan directed his gun at him again. Lorenzo froze.

“Wow, isn’t your English suddenly a lot better now, Mr. Lorenzo?” Him-chan mused. Lorenzo gulped.

“Look, I don’t know anything, okay? Rafael may trust me to run his trade here, but it’s not really that big an operation, not with _El Amante’s_ domain so close by. As for what Rafael does outside of Barcelona, there’s no way he’d tell me. And I never ask. I swear!”

“And all that load of crap about protecting your family?” Kim pushed.

Lorenzo sneered. “It’s not like they give a shit about me either. Always holding me back anyway, and my sister’s always been a little whore—“

“And look who made her that way!” Kim shouted, outraged. Lorenzo flinched again, cowed.

“Please don't,” he tried, re-adopting his subservient tone, “I'm only…” Lorenzo hitched his voice and started to sniffle. _Oh geez,_ Him-chan thought in exasperation.

“Let’s turn the idiot into the police. We're done with him.” Him-chan pulled out his phone to dial Yong-guk's number.

“ _Greetings from México!”_ Yong-guk answered.

“You sound rather delighted.” Him-chan commented, “Rafael's not here, by the way. Apparently his goons don't know where he is either.”

“ _Are you certain?_ ” Yong-guk questioned.

“Pretty sure. We broke into Rafael's HQ and found no recent traces of him. His right-hand man’s here now—if you can even call him that. The guy's a sad little coward. He doesn't know anything helpful,” Him-chan reported. He could hear giggling on the other line. _What kinda research are you doing over there Yong-guk?_ Him-chan went on, “So…we’re just gonna let the police deal with him. Liberate his captives, then follow some other leads, maybe.”

Just as Him-chan thought Yong-guk might be too distracted to hear him, his friend spoke, _“Did Lorenzo seem scared when you mentioned the police?”_

Him-chan could see where Yong-guk was going with this. “No. He didn’t.”

_“Then you know what to do.”_

“Of course,” Him-chan confirmed.

“ _Well then, try to wrap everything up quickly. Contact Young-jae and Jong-up for me. I’m going to call Dae-hyun and Zelo. See if they’ve finished with Chris Wong yet,_ ” Yong-guk instructed.

“Sure. And you? How’s your end of things?”

“ _Doing good so far. Rafael doesn't seem to be here either. But I'll look around some more._ ”

“Yeah, do some more ‘looking around,’” Him-chan smirked. Kim quirked an eyebrow at him, keeping her gun trained on Lorenzo at the same time. Him-chan indicated he’d explain it to her later. “Try not to distract yourself with the local…attractions, yeah?” he said into the receiver.

Youg-guk laughed. “ _How's Kim?”_

“She's fine. You wanna talk to her? She’s a bit busy at the moment.”

“ _Nah, it's alright. As long as you both are well. I gotta go. I'll call you if I need backup_.” Yong-guk hung up.

Him-chan slipped his phone into his coat and flicked the safety off his gun again. “Well, Lorenzo, looks like we’re done with you.” Him-chan took a lazy step towards the man.

The man’s eyes flickered from the gun to Him-chan’s face, realizing what he meant. “No! What are you doing? I thought you were going to turn me into the police?” he argued, futilely. Him-chan just shrugged and brought the muzzle up to the man’s forehead.

Suddenly, Kim laid a halting hand on his arm, pushing down. Him-chan glanced at her, surprised. She met his look with a determined one of her own. He could see her emotions rolling underneath the surface. He hesitated, but Kim did not let go. Sighing, Him-chan finally let his hand drop.

Kim knelt down on one knee again in front of Lorenzo. Her eyes peered at the man, expression calm, but Him-chan knew it for what it was: an angel’s unyielding expression of inevitability.

“Mr. Lorenzo,” Kim began, as she leaned towards him a bit, appearing as if she would offer him a deal of some sort. Him-chan knew better though. Kim continued, “We can still change our minds, you know?”

Kim fired.

Lorenzo’s mouth opened in a silent gasp and his gaze slipped from Kim’s face to the gun she held against his torso, shocked. Then he fell backwards with a dull thump, and laid there, unmoving.

Kim regained her feet. Him-chan circled around her, stepping between her and the body on the floor with one motion. Clicking the safety on her gun for her, he used one hand to tilt her chin up so that their eyes met.

He knew Kim held no respect for crooks involved in human trafficking. What was worst were those who sold their own family members into prostitution. He couldn’t have expected any mercy from Kim. That she had wanted to make the kill herself though…she must have been feeling more stressed out than he’d realized.

“Let's go back to the hotel,” Him-chan suggested. Kim agreed.

* * *

 

_Hotel Roger de Lluria Barcelona, Barcelona, Spain_

The sun had already set by the time Kim preceded Him-chan into their hotel suite. Kim had tossed her purse onto the desk, turned on the bath, and was looting through her bag for her toiletries when she noticed Him-chan's troubled expression as he pulled his mobile away from his ear.

“What's going on with you?” Kim asked, walking over to him in the living room area.

“Huh? Oh, it's nothing,” Him-chan brushed off.

“Hmm, your face doesn't say ‘it’s nothing.’ What did Jong-up tell you?” Kim had heard him greet Jong-up on the phone while they were still getting out of the car.

Him-chan breathed out a stressful sigh. “He said he and Young-jae split up today and that Young-jae went off on his own to do something. ‘Course, Jong-up hadn’t thought to ask him what it was.”

“That's what's been bothering you? Jong-up isn’t…well, you know him. He’s not attentive in that way. He wouldn’t second guess it if one of you asks him to do something. He’s rather innocent at times,” Kim offered, pulling her ponytail tie out. She combed her fingers through her hair experimentally. _Ugh. Tangles._

Him-chan did not look reassured. “It’s not Jong-up. It’s Young-jae.”

“What about him?”

“Dae-hyun and Zelo were the ones with an extra mission. Not Young-jae and Jong-up,” Him-chan pondered.

Kim thought for a moment, then shrugged, “My guess is Young-jae got fed up with waiting for Jong-up to catch up and ran ahead. You know how impatient he can be.”

“That is true,” Him-chan agreed, “And Jong-up did mention they got delayed by snow for several hours.”

Kim smiled, “See? There you go! Young-jae abhors snow. He probably wanted to get in and out of Chicago as quick as humanly possible. I bet you he’ll complain until our ears fall off once we regroup.”

Him-chan grimaced at the thought. Kim chuckled at the expression.

“Anyways, I'm gonna take a quick bath. Go relax. There’s a mini-bar over there, since this is a suite and all. You can have the shower once I’m done, m’k?” Kim gathered her stuff and headed towards the adjoining bathroom. Steam from the hot water was starting to rise into the air already.

“Kim,” Him-chan called just as she reached the door. She looked over her shoulder at him. “You sure you’ll be all right?”

Kim waved a hand vaguely in the air. “Yes, of course,” she added more when Him-chan just looked at her, “I have no regrets killing Lorenzo. He deserved it. And it wasn’t my first kill, you know. You worry about me too much.”

Finally Him-chan nodded, wishing her a relaxing bath, then headed for his own bag. Kim smiled and closed the bathroom door, busying her hands by preparing a nice, hot bubble bath.

Thoughts of Him-chan swirled through her mind as she submerged herself in the water. The heat embraced her sore legs and feet, as if draining out the stress of the long day all at once. Kim sighed happily. _Amazing…_ she thought, breathing slowly in and out. In…and out….

Kim abruptly found herself alone in a white, empty room, the white robe she wore matching her to the walls. She wondered where Him-chan was, to leave her all alone. _I'll kick his ass when he returns,_ Kim thought to herself.

She turned to her left. Samantha stood there.

“Sam?” Kim wondered, surprised. Sam gave her a faint smile, then turned around and ran off. “Wait!” Kim yelled and ran after her. “C'mon Sam, stop running away on your own like that. It's dangerous!”

Sam didn’t seem to hear her, or if she did, she only sped up instead.

“Look! If you get kidnapped again, I'm not gonna go look for you!” Kim snapped, annoyed. She was getting tired from running barefoot, even though she couldn’t tell how far they’d come. The walls were still stark and white.

Sam suddenly stopped ahead. She stood stock still with her back facing Kim. Kim finally caught up, then bent over to brace her arms on her kness, breathing hard. Conversely, Sam seemed unwinded.

“Good girl!” Kim managed to say, “Now let's go back.” She reached out her hand and grabbed Sam's arm.

It broke off at the shoulder with a resounding crack.

Kim gaped at the disconnected limb uncomprehendingly. Bright red blood started pouring out from the Sam’s shoulder socket. Kim’s eyes widened. She felt a brush on her forearm, and looked down. The arm’s fingers were wiggling, trying to grab her.

“What the fuck!” Kim screamed, dropping the arm on the floor.

It splashed into the rapidly growing puddle of blood still gushing from Sam’s body. The red color filled her vision, chasing away the white of the walls. The puddle was lapping at her ankles now, staining the fabric of her robe.

Someone was saying “oh my god” over and over again, and Kim suddenly realized it was her. Because Sam was dead! Sam was dead and bleeding and her blood was only going to keep coming and rising until the flood of it drowned her!

Indeed, in the next moment, Kim found herself horizontal in a white bathtub, blood rushing from the faucet, quickly flowing over her body and knocking her down with the force of a tsunami. Her hands grasped for the edge but found nothing. It was like a box, and she was lying at the bottom of it.

The blood level reached her neck and Kim craned her face up, struggling to remain above the surface. She was going to drown in blood! She was going to choke as the warm fluid invaded her lungs and suffocated her! _I’m sorry, Sam! I’m sorry, Andy! And Mom! Please! Don’t be angry I couldn’t avenge you!_

Suddenly a firm hand latched onto her shoulder and yanked her upwards.

“ _KIM_!” Him-chan yelled as he pulled her entirely out of the bathtub. Kim coughed painfully, spewing up soapy water, and blinking it out of her eyes. Her chest heaved as her lungs drew in vital gulps of air. She braced herself with both arms on Him-chan’s shoulders, trying to regain her bearings.

“It’s all right! It’s all right, Kim. You’re safe,” Him-chan hushed, his hands cupping her face as he sought her eyes. She looked up at him, and found an anchor in his anxious gaze. Slowly, her breathing calmed. She swallowed.

“Him-chan?” her voice sounded so small.

“I’m here,” Him-chan affirmed.

Kim smiled in relief. His hands were warm, but a nice warmth, not the choking heat from the blood in her dream. Conversely, the bathroom floor was very cold. Kim realized with a start that she was sitting on the tiles, next to the tub, naked. And Him-chan was _right there._

Kim drew her arms quickly back to hug her body, her knees curling into her chest, ankles pressed together. Thankfully, Him-chan said nothing, just grabbed a fluffy towel and wrapped it around her. He helped her stand and guided her out of the washroom.

“Falling asleep while taking a bath is dangerous, Kim!” Him-chan chided stressfully, once she was seated on the bed. “What were you thinking?”

Kim remained quiet. Him-chan sighed. “That was pretty scary…I should have been more attentive.”

“Not your fault,” Kim murmured, looking down.

Him-chan hesitated, though Kim wasn’t looking at him to see what he might have thought. Finally, “Here, let me help you lay down. Have you taken any medication today?”

Kim shook her head no.

“I’ll go grab a sleeping pill or something. Maybe that will help you sleep without nightmares.” Him-chan started to pull away. Kim’s hand—as if on its own—reached out for Him-chan’s shirt, gripping it tightly. Kim realized she was terrified at the thought of Him-chan leaving. Images of Samantha and blood flashed though her mind and Kim buried her face into Him-chan's chest.

“Don’t,” was all she could say.

Him-chan patted her head gently. “It's okay now, shhh,” Him-chan soothed. They stayed like that for a couple breaths. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked softly.

Kim didn’t want to overthink it. She was so tired, so haunted.

“Yes,” she replied. “Stay with me. Like on the airplane.”

Him-chan hugged her shoulders. “Okay,” he answered. He lifted the blanket and laid down next to her, winding lithe arms about her waist and holding her tightly. Eventually the two of them fell asleep, dreams wispy and gentle, until the morning light crept through the windows.

* * *

 

SPANISH TRANSLATIONS:

Señores! ¿Dónde está el Agente Hampton? = Sirs! Where is Agent Hampton?

Aquí. = Here.

¿Y quién es usted? = And who are you?

Me llamo Jose, señor. Tengo una llamada para el agente de Hampton. Sólo para el Agente de Hampton. = I am called Jose, sir. I have a call for Agent Hampton. Only for Agent Hampton.

De nada, desde el Amante = You’re welcome, from The Mistress.

Por favor, no sé nada = Please, I don’t know.

Dónde está su jefe ahora = Where is your boss now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope no one was surprised by Kim's abilities. She's basically a mafia princess. She'll definitely go there.


	29. Convergence Crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samantha and Hector aren't exactly in the best place at the moment and they're about to find out why.

* * *

_Le’s Safe House, El Yunque National Park, Puerto Rico_

The morning sun peeked over the mountaintop surrounding the safe house, swathing the dewy grass in crystalline twinkles. The cool air stirred, but did not yet distill the lingering morning mist. Birds happily chirped their day songs.

Taking it all in, Sam inhaled deeply. The beautiful scenery unfolding right in front of her was idyllic, to say the least, and it made her feel as if she were on vacation, rather than staying at the Le’s safe house—as B.A.P called it—for her own safety.

She had woken early to go for a jog around their enormous back yard.The area was designed in the classic English style, sporting a iron-wrought tea table under strings of beautiful lavenders. Not far from it stood a set of white swings with a sliding castle next to it. Obviously this place had been made originally for a much younger Kim.

Sam could just imagine Mr. Le lounging here, relaxing a one chair, one leg resting on the other, watching his daughter swing back and forth, laughing in delight. _That is cute,_ Sam chuckled to herself, _But I wonder if they ever had time to fulfill such a dream._ The way their lives have been going recently, Sam could not think such a normal scene would have occurred.

Her feet—clad in a pair of pink trainers Sam had found in the closet—barely rustled in the sift grass as she continued her jog. Along both sides of the walkway ran lengths of tropical flowers and plants that gave off a wonderfully refreshing scent. She looked up, squinting against the sun. As she turned to look away, her eyes caught sight of a pair of black-clad men striding along the tree line.

 _Guards?_ Sam surmised, remembering Kim’s note. She had mentioned they would be protected. Before she could decide whether to slink away or not, one of the men noticed her and raised an arm in greeting. He hollered something in Spanish.

“Sam!” another male voice yelled from somewhere behind her, “Samantha! Where are you?”

“I’m here, Hector!” Sam yelled back, quickly retracing her steps to the back porch. Hector stood there. His expression shifted to one of instant relief the moment he saw her. “Hey, sorry. I was just jogging around the garden.”

Instead of replying first, Hector pulled her closer the moment she ascended the first step. Then he drew back and spoke, meeting her eyes.

“We should get out of here,” Hector whispered, “This place is not safe.”

Sam scrunched her brows, “What? Why? Kim said it is…and I trust her.”

“Yeah? Well, she told you to trust her before, too, and look what happened to you. You got kidnapped. Drugged. And almost got yourself blown up. You still trust that woman after she put you through all that shit?” Hector argued, annoyance clear in his tone. Sam remained silent. They had briefly discussed it in the car yesterday already. She had no urge to rehash the issue…but she really didn’t want to leave.

“It wasn’t Kim’s fault, Hector. She didn’t mean for all that to happen to me, ok? Kim cares for me.

Hector huffed, “Fine. _Pero_ , what about her friends, eh? The thieves?”

“B.A.P.?”

“Yea, them. If it wasn’t Kim’s fault, then it was definitely theirs!” he exclaimed. Sam remained silent; she couldn’t exactly deny it, considering this had all starting once they arrived in San Juan. Hector seemed to calm a bit. He put his hands on her arms gently. “Let’s just...go home, si? I’ll keep you safe. I promise!” Hector reassured.

“Hector…” Sam sighed, “That’d be nice, but…,” she hesitated. Should she mention Dae-hyun? Sam sincerely doubted, however, that Hector would be thrilled to know what happened between them. Indeed, he might desire to wring Dae-hyun’s neck. But Hector clearly wanted to leave. Sam tried something else, “If you don’t want to stay, you really don’t have to. You could go home first--”

“I’m not leaving without you,” he interjected immediately. Sam frowned.

“I’m really fine here. I saw guards just over there.” She flung her hand vaguely in that direction.

Hector flicked his gaze, almost suspiciously, towards the garden edge, but returned to Sam in the next moment.

“I know safer places, Sam. You can’t stay here,” he insisted, eyes urgent.

Sam resisted the urge to groan, though she understood. Hector was simply concerned for her. Reaching out, she lightly caressed Hector’s left cheek, “But Hector…you don’t understand. Trust me on this. This situation, it’s really a lot more complicated than you think.” She rushed on when he looked like he’d interrupt again. “And I’m telling you, I’ll be fine! You should go, though, if you feel otherwise. I’m staying at least until Kim returns, and at least until I get a shower after my jog.” She tried a smile for those last words, as she ducked around Hector and into the house.

Sam heard Hector make a frustrated sound, but didn’t stop to debate any further. She had things to do, like washing the sweat from her hair, for a start.

* * *

 

Agent Eli Kennedy opened the passenger side door and slid into the seat of the black sedan with a huff.

“Nothing,” he reported, “Perimeter guards, as expected, a few cars, but no movement from the house.” Agent Casey just sipped his coffee. “Are you sure that undercover agent can disable the security system for us?”

“You doubtin’ Agent Hampton’s word?” Casey questioned.

“I’m questioning this guy of his. A little slow, isn’t he?” Kennedy twisted around to recheck the backseat for his ammo, in lieu of something active to do.

“Perhaps something is slowing him down.” The man just shrugged. “Just sit still. Damn, it’s like you’ve never had a stake out before.”

“I’ve had plenty,” Eli argued.

“Then stop fidgeting. We’ve established that this is the B.A.P safe house. Until Agent Hampton gets word that the way is clear, we wait.”

Eli finished reloading his gun and shoved in his side holster. He left the jacket off and opened the door again.

“Where are you going now?” Casey inquired.

“Just blowing off some steam, don’t worry.”

“Don’t let them see you,” Casey reminded him, then returned his stare towards the front gate.

“I’m better that,” Eli was going to protest, but just then Casey’s phone rang.

“Agent Casey,” Casey greeted. He listened for a few seconds. “Good. Send back up. Kennedy says there are guards. Yes, more than we can take on our own.” Eli rolled his eyes. _Maybe for you, old farts,_ he thought, though he knew better than to say so aloud.

Casey hung up as Eli got back in the car.

“Green light now, Hampton says. His agent came through, of course,” Casey announced, “Twenty more minutes, and we can kick down the door, or whatever you youngin’s do.”

Eli smirked. “Sure. Let’s do that.” He bounced his knee in anticipation.

* * *

 

“There are cops. Not Puerto Rican,” the bearded man spoke into his phone, as he circled around the front drive, off the road, and to the back of the property. He had noticed the men on a side road, attracted by the sound of a car door opening and closing. Looking through the dense trees had shown him a non-descript black car and muscular man with a gun strapped to his upper chest. His white shirt and black slacks had pegged him as American as surely as his blonde hair.

 _“Have they seen you yet?”_ his boss asked him.

“No. And there’s only two of them.”

 _“Fine. Get it done before more of them arrive,_ bien _?”_

“Of course, I will.”

_“See that you do. I would have done it myself, but it appears the CIA had me black-listed at the Puerto Rican border. I could not give them any hints. Pity. I was hoping to see Ms. Le’s face in person when she realized she’d failed. Again.”_

The bearded man smirked, “I’ll make sure she knows.”

_“You do have a time limit. Also, make sure you are not followed.”_

“Yes, sir,” he answered, although his boss had already hung up. He turned to his small team, a gruff collection of thugs. They had been hired from the slums, but would do their job, he was sure. None of them had any love for governing officials. What they wanted was money, and he had promised them a lot of that.

He cocked his gun and slid it in his waistband.

“ _Vamos!”_

* * *

 

The blare of a gunshot made Sam jolt. She straightened and ran toward the nearest window to peek out one of the lower corners. There was some kind of scuffle at the front drive that led down to the front gate. As she watched, six other guards came sprinting around from the back, rifles in hand, hollering orders back and forth.

 _This isn’t good,_ Sam thought, her heart rate jumping. “Hector?” she called. There was no answer. “Hector!!” she tried again, louder.

Finally, as she rounded the kitchen, she heard his footsteps. Hector drew up short when he saw her frantic face.

“What is it, Sam?”

“Where were you?” Hector didn’t reply, but although Sam would have liked to press the issue, now was not the time, “Never mind, then. Hector! You were right. It’s not safe, there’s someone coming.” A flurry of gunshots sounded just then, emphasizing her words. Sam covered her ears. They’d gotten closer.

Hector swiveled his head in that direction, his eyes widening. “Shit!” He ran a large hand through his brown hair. Emotions flickered through his eyes for a second—among them, fear—then landed on Sam, determined.

“I have to get you out of here.” He grabbed her wrist, and together, they moved toward the back door.

Suddenly, the front door crashed open behind them, flinging wood shards flying from the door frame. One of the Le’s guards yelled out in pain as he fell hard on the ground. His shoulder was bleeding heavily. Sam started towards the man but Hector held her back with two strong arms. He maneuvered Samantha behind him.

“Get outta here! Both of ya!” the injured man bellowed, waving his good arm at them.

“Who’s attacking?” Hector yelled back amid the din.

“I'm not sure how they got through! Just go! _Hurry!_ ” The guard moved to stand but at that moment, a bullet zoomed through the door, piercing his chest. Sam screamed. The guard fell boneless to the floor, lying completely still in his own blood bath.

“Come! We must go!” Hector whirled around, pulling Sam along. “There should be a way out if we make it past the gardens.” Sam gripped Hector's hand tightly as they traversed the halls.

“Should we grab some weapons or something?” Sam spoke, trying to think rationally.

“No time! Besides, all we’re going to do is run, right?” Hector twisted the doorknob with both hands and flung it wide—only to be greeted by a dark-skinned man who looked up at the pair of escapes. He smiled at them. His eyes, however, showed no mirth.

“Well, hello there,” he said amiably, “Where are you two going in such a hurry?”

* * *

 

_Barcelona, Spain_

It was three in the afternoon when Him-chan and Kim checked out of their hotel in Barcelona to make their way back to the airport. The incident from the night before lingered in the air between them, the awkwardness flavoring each sentence.

That morning Kim had woken up well-rested, only to realize she was completely naked under the towel Him-chan had wrapped around her. After holding her breath in shock for what had felt like an hour, Kim slowly inched her way off the bed, adamantly refusing to ponder what else could have happened between them.

Unfortunately, Him-chan opened his sleepy eyes and caught sight of her blushing face. He repeatedly apologized to Kim the rest of the morning, reassuring her nothing…untoward happened. _Well, duh!_ Kim had thought to herself. _Would I let him live if something_ had _happened?_

She wasn't angry at Him-chan, not really. He had been saving her drowning in her own bathtub. Honestly, she felt incredibly lucky that Him-chan was there, and had thanked him in turn. Nevertheless, the awkward feeling remained. Him-chan avoided eye contact with her during breakfast, addressed her only when necessary while they finished up their small leads around the city (with no results), and did the same during lunch. They were now boarding their jet home, so Kim sighed and decided to speak.

“Look, you're not going to keep acting like that the entire flight home, are you? Stop it already. I already said it was fine! It's not like something really happened between us last night,” she trailed off, feeling the blush return. Still, Him-chan continued staring out the window. Kim could not decipher what he was thinking, and blurted, “Is the prospect of sleeping with me so awful?”

“What! N-no!” Him-chan refuted immediately, turning to look at her in dismay. “Of course I'd love it,” to which both of them blushed harder, “I-I mean...gaw! What are you saying, Kim?”

“What am _I_ saying? What are _you_ saying?” Kim countered, on the verge of laughter.

“I’m just pointing out that…that it’s not helping! You just made me feel a lot worse!” Him-chan complained, looking like all he wanted to do was shove his fist in his mouth to shut himself up. He seemed so frazzled, Kim did laugh this time. She decided to have mercy.

“I’m just kidding!” Kim slapped him hard on his right arm, “Oh, you should've seen your face! It was hilarious!”

Her attempt at lightening the mood worked well, because Him-chan smiled. He reached over and returned the slap, nailing Kim on her left arm.

“Ahh!” she drew back, feigning injury.

“Well, glad I can amuse you.” Him-chan looked down, slightly embarrassed, “But…you slept well?”

Kim calmed her giggles. “Yeah! Last night was pretty relaxing.” She looked over to Him-chan, conveying her sincerity, “Thanks!”

“My pleasure. Him-chan smiled back, this time more confidently, as he leaned towards her and lightly bumped his head to Kim's. The action felt vaguely intimate to Kim, and she turned away so that her curls fell over her burning cheeks. She quickly changed the subject.

“So hey, is there a way for me to make a phone call while we're still in the air?”

“Probably. You should ask the flight attendant.” Him-chan hailed the attendant, who hurried to their side.

“Did you need refreshments?” the older lady asked politely. Kim explained her request. “Oh yes, I believe so. The captain linked the communication system on this aircraft to your vacation house on your father's order,” The flight attendant answered.

“Sweet!” Kim excused herself from Him-chan and headed for the cockpit, where the stewardess opened the door for her.

“Good morning, Miss Le. What can I do for you?” the captain greeted professionally. He was well into his fifties, but spoke with youthful expression, though his eyes were protected behind aviator sunglasses.

Kim plopped herself into the co-pilot’s chair. She had no clue how to fly a plane, but something about sitting in this area made her giddy as a seven-year-old. “Good morning, sir! Can you please make a call to my dad's vacation house in San Juan for me?”

“Certainly!” Captain pressed one of the buttons on his control panel. Kim slipped on the proffered headset, adjusting the mic as the dial tone clicked. After some silence and bursts of static, an automated voice came on.

“The number you are trying to reach is out of service. Please try a different number or hang up and try again.”

“Hmmm.... That's strange,” the captain said. He pressed another button to hang up, then redialed the same number. Same message. “Did your father change his number?”

Kim shook her head, the giddiness evaporating, replaced by an uneasy knot in her stomach. “No. The number you dialed is the correct one.”

“Well...it's not going through for some reason.”

“Then, can you connect my phone to your jet's communication line? Let me try to call it with my phone instead,” Kim requested.

By the time Him-chan joined her several calls had already failed.

Finally, Kim's phone received beeped a signal. Then it vibrated through a series of alerts: twelve missed calls and a voicemail from the safe house in San Juan. Panicking internally, she pressed on the voice mail first, putting it on speakerphone. A man's voice shouted her name.

“ _Miss Le! We're under attack! It's Ra...”_ A gun shot cut him off and there came the thud of the phone hitting flooring. Shouting sounded some distance away, followed by more gunfire. Somewhere, a window shattered.

The sound of heavy footsteps came next, followed by the shushing of fabric. The next sound made Kim’s stomach leap into her throat.

“Heard you all are looking for me?” the haunting male voice said, then chuckled. “Well, it seems you looked in all the wrong places. The game’s mine now.” The voice paused, listening to someone yelling in the background.

“All right, I’ll make it easy for you, Miss Le. You bring me the plates. Mr. Rodriguez no longer wants to go chasing after them, you see. Until then, I’ll take your pretty friend here as insurance, ‘kay?” Sam’s voice screamed through the phone, as if her arm had just been wrenched. “But do it quickly. My patience has a limit. Bye now.”

The voicemail ended.

“Captain, can you get us back faster?” Him-chan requested the moment the automated voice clicked by on. Kim wanted to say ‘thank you’ but her mind was racing. _Sam was supposed to be safe,_ was all she could think.

“I can do that,” the captain confirmed, fingers flying over the cockpit adjustments, “as long as our tailwind stays with us, we can decrease the time by forty minutes.

 _Not enough,_ Kim’s mind cried.

Him-chan knelt down then and encircled Kim with his arms. She breathed in the smell of him, closing her eyes, wishing the last couple minutes had not happened. Him0chan spoke. “Captain, please dial Yong-guk's number for me if you don't mind.”

“I gotta get Sam back, Him-chan....” Kim found herself saying, voice soft, “I promised her.” She opened her eyes, her mind coming to a halt with the next thought—no, it was a _vow_. “Then I'm going to get my hands on that bastard Rafael and I'm going to personally see him to his death.”

Him-chan just nodded as he gripped her tightly, anchoring her to the moment. She turned the concept in her mind, trying to imagine Rafael’s face—even if she had never met the man before—with the realization of his death plastered across his eyes. Imagined herself standing above him with her 9mm aimed perfectly, trigger ready to be pulled.

“ _Yo! Talk to me,”_ Yong-guk’s voice suddenly picked up on the other line.

“Yong-guk, there has been unauthorized access to the safe house. Everyone needs to get back there _now_!” Him-chan informed the moment B.A.P.’s leader answered.

“ _What? How the hell did that happen? Security access to the gates were only distributed among our group.”_ Yong-guk queried.

“I thought so, too. Damn, we'll have to get Zelo to look at it,” Him-chan paused, “Yong-guk, it's Rafael. He’s there in Puerto Rico. He knew we were looking for him.”

Yong-guk sighed, “ _Or he was waiting for us to leave. Fuck. He's smarter than I thought. All right, I'll tell Jong-up and Young-jae to get there first. They're in Chicago at the moment.”_

“And you?”

“ _Got a little tied up with the Mexican cartel yesterday. Don’t worry, nothing a large bribe didn’t fix.”_

“Bribe? Why not just tell Frances you would owe him a favor?” Kim heard Him-chan offer, though she had no idea who Frances was, probably some head honcho, though, knowing Yong-guk.

However, Yong-guk only said, _“Couldn’t. I already owed him one for Gabriella, remember?”_

There was a pause. Kim suddenly remembered and she gasped. “Don’t tell me you hooked up with his niece! Yong-guk!!”

 _“What? It was_ only _flirting.”_

“She was thirty-two!” Kim refuted.

 _“Thirty-one, though she said twenty-nine,”_ Yong-guk stated smugly, “ _Never any harm in complimenting a woman. Dae-hyun says the same thing.”_

Kim opened her mouth to chastise him some more, but Him-chan cut in.

“Just tell Young-jae and Jong-up to be careful, Yong-guk. The authorities may have decided to get involved this time,” Him-chan cautioned.

“ _Yes. CIA scum on our tail. I know,”_ Yong-guk acknowledged, sobering.

“Yong-guk,” Him-chan continued. There was a heavy tone in his voice, as if he was hinting at something else that needed to be discussed. “They’ve been chasing us closely lately.”

_“Too close, I know. We'll talk more when we meet. For now let me pass on the plan to Dae-hyun and Zelo first. They just finished part two of their mission.”_

“So you’re in Beijing right now?” Kim asked, trying to borrow the same calmness that Him-chan utilized so well.

“Yes,” Yong-guk replied, “See you all in San Juan. Tell Kim to take it easy. I can sense by her voice that she’s too anxious.” With that comment, Yong-guk hung up. Well, so much for trying to sound calm.

“Take it easy? He's serious?” Kim said, irked. She didn’t care for the sarcasm. Yong-guk should know quite well how much she cared for Sam.

“We will be arriving by nightfall, ma’am and sir,” The captain announced then.

Kim looked up at Him-chan. He rubbed her upper arms comfortingly, and guided her back to the seat. Kim breathed in deeply, wishing she could just teleport home.

* * *

 

_San Juan Police Department, San Juan, Puerto Rico_

“Go, people! Hurry!” Agent Hampton shouted, grabbing his rental car keys and side arm, checking that it was loaded. “They are armed and dangerous, but I want as many arrests for questioning as possible!”

His assigned assistant at the office, the man named Jose, quickly translated his orders just in case some officers didn’t catch it all. Hampton instructed Jose to drive and got in the car just as the caravan of police truck and cars began pulling into the street.

 _Damn it all,_ Hampton cursed to himself.

He had just finished reassuring Director Haversham that their undercover agent had not only relayed the location of B.A.P.’s safe house, but deactivated the security system, when Agent Casey had called. Apparently, the safe house was under attack.

 _Which means…this was Carlos’ reaction to B.A.P.’s assault on Gonzalez,_ he reasoned.

But wasn’t B.A.P. out of the country right now? Why would Carlos have his men—Carlos wasn’t actually here since the airport security didn’t report anything—attack an empty nest?

 _Ah, Derek is still here, which means the plates would stay with him,_ Hampton concluded, _or so Carlos assumes as well._

Well, either way, Director Haversham was not going to like it if they couldn’t rendezvous with their spy. The deep cover agent had been gathering information on T.S. for years now, and this mission with Carlos Rodriguez was too perfect a matchup to let pass. If they caught Rodriguez, it’d would restore CIA credibility in the punishment of rogue agents, but if they caught B.A.P. as well, who knew what sort of information about T.S. they could acquire. His empire could be brought down.

Hampton bit his lip. _But instead, this is all going to hell in a handbasket._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hampton pretty much sums it up nicely, yes?
> 
> AGAIN, WE OWN NOTHING YOU RECOGNIZE. PLEASE DON'T SUE US, CUZ WE'LL HAVE TO RESORT TO CRIME TO PAY YOU OFF, AND WE DON'T WANT TO DO THAT. THANKS!


	30. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kim and BAP return to the Le's safehouse only to find fragments of very, very bad things. And it gets worse.

* * *

When Kim and Him-chan arrived in San Juan around two in the morning they immediately started driving back to the safe house. The entire ride passed in silence. This time, however, the tension between them stemmed from anxiety at the situation instead of any embarrassment between them.

Him-chan could see Kim messing with her nails as she stared out the window. He could almost hear her thoughts, since they were probably the same as his own. _What happened at the safe house?_ _Did Jong-up and Young-jae get there already? But then, why haven’t they called?_ Him-chan thought. Neither Jong-up nor Young-jae had picked up, which could mean a number of things. A number of bad things, most likely?

He finally turned down the highway exit that eventually led to the safe house. As the car hit gravel road, Kim noticed a San Juan police vehicle parked on the road’s shoulder. Looking ahead only showed more police cars, now along both sides of the path. She glanced at Him-chan worriedly.

“We’re too late,” she surmised. Him-chan took one of her hands in a tight grip.

“We don’t know that yet,” he soothed, “We already knew the police would be here. Perhaps they fought off Rafael and his men and then took Sam with them to a safe location.” Kim nodded, grasping to the small hope Him-chan gave her, though he couldn’t really tell if she believed him or not.

They passed the open security gates and started up the long driveway. Not a single one of Derek’s guards could be seen. _Shit,_ Him-chan cursed. His apprehension rose as they reached the front of the house. Several cars stood in their way and beyond them, strings of yellow caution tape had been wound across trees and crisscrossed over doors.

Kim burst from the car and strode forwards as soon as Him-chan shifted to park. She easily ignored the yellow tape, batting them aside as if they were insignificant cobwebs. Him-chan saw two patrolmen hasten to follow. Him-chan almost chuckled. They weren’t going to stop her, though they could sure try.

 _“¡Perdóneme, Señora!”_ One of them hailed as Him-chan exited the car. The man tried to step in front of Kim to bar her way, but she didn’t even meet his eyes as she shouldered passed him.

“Hey _! Espere un momento_!” He ran after Kim and grabbed her arm this time. “ _Esta área está fuera de límites!_ ”

“ _Esta es mi propiedad!_ I demand to know what happened here!” Kim snapped, voice made of ice. The officer flinched and took a few steps backwards. His fellow policeman tried to answer instead.

“Ah, well, _Señora_ , there has been a break-in,” he verbalized.

“No fucking shit,” Kim growled back frankly, flinging both her arms at her damaged house.

“And...uh...we are sealing off this area. No one can enter until the investigation is complete.” The man’s voice grew smaller and smaller as he observed the storm building on Kim’s face.

“To hell with that,” Kim declared, then turned and strode through the door, grumbling, “Since when did you good-for-nothing cops decide to stick your noses in others’ affairs anyway?” Obviously, right now, because the officers followed her into the house.

Him-chan left Kim to her rampage for just a moment to survey the scene. There were only a handful of officers at the site now, and none of them had the look of a CIA official. He saw one man sitting halfway in his car, the door opened as he fiddled with the radio on the dash. Another officer jogged up to him, handing him a packet of files.

As the man leafed through the folder, Him-chan caught glimpses of snap shots: pictures of Kim and B.A.P., along with Samantha’s and Hector's faces. The first officer held up Kim’s picture, scrutinizing it. The second guy suddenly started speaking. He pointed towards the front door where Kim had disappeared inside.

_Uh oh._

Him-chan immediately dug out his phone and dialed.

“They're onto us,” Him-chan said the moment Yong-guk picked up his phone.

There was a pause, _“...The cops? When did they decide to do their jobs? I didn't get the memo.”_ Yong-guk finally answered.

“Someone from the higher-ups must've taken over,” Him-chan deduced, as he began walking towards the house as well.

“ _Find out what they know,”_ Yong-guk instructed someone in the background. Sure enough, he heard a one-word acknowledgement from Zelo, followed by the tappity-taps of his lightning fast fingers on a keyboard.

“Then there's Rafael's group,” Him-chan reminded him, sighing, “It looks bad...they got us good.” He shined a flash light on the broken windows and shattered glass on the ground as he entered the threshold. “Blood stains and outlines of dead bodies are all over the place,” he reported. He turned towards the rear of the house. Past the adjoining door to the living room, Him-chan could hear Kim still arguing with the two officers. “It was a massacre, Yong-guk.”

“ _What of Jong-up and Young-jae_?” Yong-guk ventured.

“No sign of them. The police look like they’ve been on scene for several hours, so I assume they hadn’t gotten back in time. I couldn't reach either of them on the phone to confirm.” A shout suddenly sounded from the front. Him-chan peeked back into the living room. The officer from outside had come running in, Kim’s photo in hand. He yelled something in Spanish and immediately pulled a gun out and raised it to Kim's face. The other two followed suit.

“Uh oh, looks like Kim's in trouble,” Him-chan announced.

“ _Kim?”_ Yong-guk repeated rather sarcastically, “ _Shouldn't you feel worse for whoever puts her in trouble instead_?” Him-chan ignored Yong-guk's statement, hung up, and ran to join Kim.

* * *

 

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” Kim exclaimed, injecting as much scorn as she could into her voice. She also raised her right eyebrow in irritation and narrowed her eyes. _These guys picked the wrong moment to start a fight with me._ The two officers struggled to maintain a good grip on their guns. They’d had enough time of Kim grilling them for information in the last ten minutes to be afraid of her. The third guy—the one with her picture—did not.

“You are under arrest!” he shouted.

“For what?” Kim shot back.

“For associating with the Southeast Asian mafia and assisting them with stealing U.S Government's property,” the other officer shouted in one panicked breath.

Kim's eyes widened this time, “What?”

“ _Estúpido! No se suponía que decir la última parte!_ ” the other guy yelled and smacked his partner behind the head.

Him-chan chose that moment to enter, coming up behind the two of the officers and resting his hands on their shoulders, “Gentlemen. Would you care to elaborate on that last part for me?” He said looking from one man to the other. His hands gripped harder. One of them whimpered.

“Yes,” Kim sauntered up to them, gaze deadly, “Please do,” she demanded.

The three officers certainly looked rattled now. The two under Him-chan’s grip had both lowered their guns, while the third had his halfway to the ground, looking confused on whether to point it at Kim or at Him-chan.

Suddenly one of the officers' radios vibrated and blared to life loudly, “El Paso 70 calling Alejandro 113. Alejandro 113, respond!” The third officer dropped his gun in surprise.

His partner gave him a pathetic look while the one with Kim’s picture scrambled for his radio. With one last scared glance at Him-chan—who let him go—he back away into the kitchen, replying, “Alejandro 113, we hear you loud and clear. Please go ahead.”

Kim and Him-chan shared a look. Kim shook her head, indicating that Him-chan didn’t need to start shooting…yet. The next few seconds passed in awkward silence as she and Him-chan stared down the remaining two officers. Finally, the other one returned.

“We're needed back at the perimeter,” he said, then leaned over to whisper, “They found another body…” Kim’s heart skipped a beat at the words. So far, from her perusal of the house, she had yet to see Sam or Hector, which both relieved and worried her. So what did this mean?

Kim looked over at Him-chan, mouthing, “What body?” silently towards him. He shook his head; he didn’t know either. _More importantly, whose body?_

“All right, um…” one of the officers spoke up fearfully, “Sorry, sorry. It seems that we've made a mistake. Jumped to conclusions, let’s say.”

“Our apologies, Miss Le,” officer number two said. He shoved his partner with an elbow and the man bent down hurriedly to grab his gun, shoving it back into his belt.

The first guy continued. “It's getting late now. You two shouldn't be out and about this place too much. Go to a hotel or something.” The three men made a quick escape.

Kim glared at their backs as they climbed into their cars. With pure will, she shoved down the impulse to blush and definitely did _not_ think about her and Him-chan in a hotel together.

“What the hell is wrong with the cops around here? Incompetent fools!” Kim complained instead, crossing her arms.

“They know,” Him-chan stated quietly behind her. Kim turned to meet his gaze. “The U.S. government took over the local PD here. We're being investigated by the CIA. They know we're here, though they can’t arrest us yet.” Him-chan began pacing. Kim ended up following him to the kitchen, where she determinedly ignored the broken glass and chairs. She sighed as memories of the times she’d spent here in the past with her father resurfaced. He had taken her shopping for this furniture when they’d moved to Puerto Rico. It had been a lovely outing for father and daughter…and now look at it all.

Him-chan was speaking. Kim refocused on his words.

“But how the hell did they know where exactly to look for us? Your father made sure to clear his tracks when he built this place. We even saw to it ourselves.” Him-chan’s brows were furrowed as he tried to puzzle it out.

“Right,” Kim agreed. Her father was good at what he did. Before all the events in the last few weeks, Kim had never had any troubles with _Le Yacht_ and no one ever recognized them beyond their cover as a legitimate business. “What if—“

“Whoa! There really is nothing left.”

A familiar voice interrupted Kim's thought process. She and Him-chan both turned toward it and saw Yong-guk, Dae-hyun and Zelo approaching.

“Yong-guk! Took you long enough,” Kim rebuked, “Wait! How'd you guys get pass all the cops out there?”

Yong-guk gave her a confused look. “What cops? The street was empty when we got here.” He gestured for Dae-hyun and Zelo to start looking around. “Start with the control room.” The two younger men split in opposite directions, each pulling out their own flash lights.

“Oh. I guessed they all went back.” Kim said uncertainly. “There were two cops here earlier and they spoke some idiotic nonsense. Drove me nuts.”

“Really? What did they say exactly?” Yong-guk wondered with fake innocence.

“So you can repeat it to me? Don’t even try it.” Kim shook a finger at him threateningly. He smirked, but refrained from further teasing. He turned towards Him-chan who seemed to be deep in his own thoughts.

“Him-chan,” Yong-guk greeted, right when Zelo's head appeared at the door.

“Noona! Come here quick!” He waved at her then withdrew.

Kim rushed to follow, glancing back. Yong-guk and Him-chan had not responded. They stood close together, Him-chan's mouth moving in their private conference. Whatever it was, Kim figured they’d tell her later. She wanted to find out what Zelo found first.

“Zelo! Where are you?” Kim yelled. She had reached the control room.

“Here,” Zelo answered. He was hunched underneath the desk, his lithe upper body covered by a curtain of wires. Kim crouched down next to him.

“Well? What is it?” she prompted.

Zelo pushed away from the desk and sat up. He dug a USB-connecting wire from his pocket and ran it from his cell phone to a port on the back of one of the consoles. “Nothing turns on now. Someone shot the fuck out of the console and monitors.”

Kim couldn’t even bring herself to chastise Zelo for his language. Things _were_ pretty fucked up. “But…” she assumed Zelo was finding a way around this problem.

“But,” Zelo confirmed, fingers tapping his phone, “I can still access one of the hard drives—well, non-chronological bits of it. The cameras would have picked up anyone who came in to tamper with the central controls.” There was a pause while Kim let Zelo work. “Ah, dammit!”

“What?”

Zelo finally glanced at her, frustrated. “Whoever got in made sure the cameras were the first to go. There’s nothing left of use.” He yanked the USB from the console sharply.

“Was it done directly from here?” Yong-guk asked, he and Him-chan joining them in the small, trashed room.

Zelo shook his head no. “Maybe? I’m unsure. Probably remote access, though I couldn’t tell you if it was from right outside the house or from Sweden. I have no way of telling. They hacked the system, then disabled the gate alarms, which is why we had no warning. ”

Yong-guk didn’t look pleased.

“And where’s Dae-hyun?” Him-chan asked.

“I’m back now. Just went to the front gate.” Everyone turned to look as Dae-hyun made his way down the hall. At Yong-guk’s prompting, Dae-hyun continued, “A few wires were lying on the ground next to the power generator, dug out right from the foundation with a shovel. I found it discarded nearby. The generator was completely busted open, and the power lines were cut.”

“What? That doesn’t make sense,” Zelo piped in. At Yong-guk’s questioning gaze, he continued, “Our control room was hacked. The alarms were silenced. Destroying the generators, which sit inside the property line, would be overkill. Unless they just wanted to be sure nothing would stop them from invading, I suppose.”

“Do you think one of the attackers was an accomplice to this hacker?” Kim hypothesized.

“I don’t know. I couldn’t really tell if the debris leftover was Puerto Rican PD or Gonzalez’s men, or heck, your father’s men, Noona,” Dae-hyun said.

“Okay then. Zelo, keep trying to access any data left over. Kim, you go take a look with Dae-hyun. See if you can figure out if the stuff belongs to your father’s people,” Yong-guk decided. Kim nodded and followed Dae-hyun out of the house.

* * *

 

Kim had taken at look at the generator then spread out, with Dae-hyun going one direction while she went another, to search the ground for any incriminating evidence. She’d made it all the way to the backyard gardens when she noticed a shadow move at the corner of her eyes. It had looked like a shadow of a tall man. The recognition startled her.

“Hello?” Kim tried neutrally, walking past the garden fence, careful not to slip on the debris. Even back here, there were signs of running and fighting, the dirt churned up roughly.

No one answered back, but she could feel the other person's presence here.

Kim reached for the hand gun behind her back, and then began moving forwards cautiously. She stopped well in the area of mowed grass, unwilling to venture beyond the trees. The lawn was bathed in a full moon tonight and Kim squinted, trying to see beyond into the darkness.

There! The man’s shadow was right in front of her Kim immediately drew her gun and aimed.

“Oh my, my, my!” The shadow spoke at once, raising both hands up. The shadow moved, and a tall man stepped forwards, revealing himself in the moonlight.

The man looked to be in his late forties with dark hair, peppered with gray throughout. He had a square jaw and thin cheeks with hints of a scruffy beard. His dark eyes gleamed at Kim genially.

“I haven't seen you since ever. _No puedo creer que!_ What a beauty you have become,” The strange man crooned. Kim’s blood froze. _It couldn’t be!_ she screamed inside her mind. Outwardly, she stepped back once but did not move her gun from his chest.

“What? No greeting for me? _Que triste!_ I am quite close to your family, after all,” The man came to a stop ten feet from her and smiled creepily.

“Stop talking nonsense! I don't know who you are. Identify yourself!” Kim demanded harshly. _If this man was…him..._ Her emotions went wild at the thought as bloody images of her past raced across her mind.

The man mimed a gasp, raising his left hand to his chest. “You've forgotten about me already? I'm heart broken. How should we fix it?” He pinned her with malicious eyes and smirked.

* * *

SPANISH TRANSLATIONS:

_Perdóneme, señora_ = Pardon me, Ma’am.

 _Espere un momento_ = Wait a moment.

 _Esta área está fuera de límites!_ = This area is off-limits!

 _Esta es mi propiedad!_ = This is my property!

 _Estupido! No se suponía que decir la última parte_! = Stupid! You weren’t supposed to say the last part!

 _No puedo creer que!_ = I can’t believe it!

 _Que triste!_ = How sad!


	31. Suspicions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just who is responsible for their breach in security? That's what Yong-guk wants to know. But Kim's gone missing into the forest now, so he'd better move it.

* * *

Back inside the safe house, Yong-guk and Him-chan had relocated to the living room to continue their speculations, leaving Zelo to sort out the control room. Yong-guk stood to the side, leaning his weight on one leg, hands in his pockets.

“There could a mole among us, then, and he's pretty clever,” Yong-guk muttered, looking at Him-chan to continue their conversation.

“Who would it be though?” Him-chan wondered, raising one hand over his mouth and crossing the other arm over his chest. Yong-guk could practically hear the tension in Him-chan’s thoughts as he spoke. “I don't think it's anyone among _us_ in particular. If it is then there would be no B.A.P. in existence. T.S. would not have recruited anyone like that. You know he’s careful.”

Yong-guk nodded, concurring. “That’s a thought, but it could also mean that the mole waited until now to act. Or changed sides recently.” Yong-guk scanned Him-chan’s face, though he didn’t really want to consider his best friend as an option. _No, there’s really no way,_ Yong-guk thought. T.S. had already started training Him-chan long before he brought Yong-guk into B.A.P. That, and well, Yong-guk would trust Him-chan with his life. He sighed. “I don’t have enough information to draw any conclusions yet.”

Him-chan gazed at him critically. He nodded understandingly. “It’s horrible to think of such things, I agree. So for now, let’s put the B.A.P. suspects aside. If the culprit is someone else then it just means those government ratshave finally gotten close to us,” Him-chan suggested.

“When you and Kim arrived here, did you happen to find any survivors?” Yong-guk ventured.

Him-chan shook his head. “The San Juan police were here before us. They'd probably cleared out the area before we could do anything.”

Yong-guk nodded. “Well, we know that Sam got kidnapped... _again_...so she's still alive for now.” He started to walk around with one hand over his mouth. _But that Latino boy…maybe…_

“You’re thinking of Hector, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, whatever his name is.”

Him-chan shook his head again. “Like I said, everything was corralled by the time we got here. No bodies left. We don't know whether he's alive or has gotten himself killed.”

“Or was the spy,” Yong-guk pointed out, as he continued his pacing, “How did he get here again?”

“Zelo said he and Kim picked him up when they went back to _Le Yacht_ ,” Him-chan answered. “Cops and the media were there at the time, covering the news about _Le Yacht’s_ break-in that morning.”

 _Cops were there... and that kid also happened to be there at the same time..._ Yong-guk voiced his thoughts to his second-in-command.

“Who knows.” Him-chan shrugged, and guessed, “He was probably just looking for Samantha?”

“Either way, he's at least a little suspicious. Have the boys go look for him as soon as possible. If he's dead then I wanna see his body. If he’s still alive and with the cops, well... then we know who's the culprit is,” Yong-guk stated.

Yong-guk sincerely hoped it turned out that way. Killing Hector would be much better than having to kill one of his own. Yong-guk seized up at the thought. _Could I do that?_ He asked himself. He wasn’t sure he could. He had grown up with them. He had known all of them for years, through the serious, the exhilarating, and the light-hearted. If the mole was one of them…

His heart—something Yong-guk sometimes tried to forget he had—clenched painfully. Some part of him whined that this just wasn’t fair! Yong-guk squished it brutally. What would T.S. say if he knew Yong-guk was having such juvenile thoughts?

_Thoughts unfit for the leader of B.A.P._

Yong-guk had to make hard choices. And if he had to investigate his own team, he would. _Speaking of which…_

“By the way, I don't see Young-jae and Jong-up anywhere.” Yong-guk walked through a hole where the drywall had been blasted apart. Him-chan stood up to follow.

“They haven't arrived yet,” he answered back unsurely. His tone made it clear he knew what Yong-guk was considering.

Yong-guk remained silently somber.

The sound of footsteps crunching over glass alerted them both to the entrance of another person. Dae-hyun rounded the corner, eyes seeking them.

“Hey, where's your Noona?” Yong-guk asked.

“Oh, she didn’t come back yet?” Dae-hyun wondered, “She and I spread out to look for clues and when I turned around she was gone. I thought she’d come back here first.”

 _Uh oh._ Yong-guk could feel a headache coming on.

“Zelo!” Him-chan immediately hollered, heading for the door, “Is Kim with you?”

“No,” came the reply. Footsteps echoed down the hallway as Zelo rushed to join the three of them, an enquiring expression on his face, “Why do you ask?”

 _Dammit, Kim!_ Yong-guk thought, making to follow Him-chan as well. As he passed by Zelo, however, Zelo’s hand landed on his elbow, holding him back. The younger man leaned close, the look on his face grave.

“Hyung,” he whispered, hesitating for a second, “If I recovered the right data…,” he broke off again, unsure.

“Yes?” Yong-guk encouraged.

Zelo bit the inside of his lip, then plunged on, “I did what I could to obtain any transmissions in and out of our control room before it was destroyed. The last incoming message came from the San Juan police department in the city center.” Yong-guk frowned grimly at that, “And…the last outgoing message was…,” Zelo sighed and seemed to brace himself, “The last ID to access the control room was Young-jae’s.”

Yong-guk felt his entire body coil tight as a spring, a sort of coldness settling over them. He recognized the feeling as the poise he possessed before he sprang into action, though at this moment, he didn’t know if he wanted to throttle someone or something.

“Young-jae?” Yong-guk repeated, “Young-jae accessed the security system last?”

Zelo nodded, the implications of his own report making his forehead wrinkle with worry, “His ID _is_ listed there.”

Yong-guk firmed his jaw and strove to keep a rational head, inhaling deeply. T.S. always told him to think rationally, never based on emotion—unless it for revenge, of course. “But he was in Chicago.”

“I know,” Zelo replied, looking down briefly, “I can’t tell if it was direct or remote access, hyung. I just found his ID code in the jumbled data right before it was wrecked.” He paused, “I’m sorry.”

Yong-guk glanced at Zelo. The apprehension on his face really made him look eighteen for a moment, and Yong-guk took pity on him. “At least you found something, Zelo? Thanks for bringing it to my attention. And, you know, a hacker could’ve gotten a hold of Young-jae’s ID code, right?” _Though I’m not gonna stop suspecting him anyways,_ Yong-guk added mentally, _I have to consider all possibilities._

Zelo’s face brightened at Yong-guk’s words. “Right!”

“C’mon, Yong-guk!” came Him-chan’s shout.

“Okay, let’s go catch up,” Yong-guk told Zelo, and they hurried through the house.

Him-chan and Dae-hyun had just reached the front door and flung it open when a body came bounding in. Yong-guk just barely stopped himself from drawing his gun.

“We’re back!” Young-jae announced loudly, as energetic as a midday sun, “Did I scare you?” The younger man abruptly noticed the anxious look on Him-chan’s face and said, “Shit, did I really scare you, Hyung?”

“Young-jae!” Yong-guk exclaimed to get his attention, voice sharp.

“Yo, boss!” Young-jae turned to him jovially. Yong-guk pressed down on the urge to bombard his junior with accusations, if only to get that insufferable grin off his face. The cheerfulness seemed so wrong in the face of what Yong-guk had just learned from Zelo.

He swallowed his burning questions and instead asked the most important one, “Where’s Jong-up?” he asked, voice firm. Young-jae blinked, hearing the harsh undertone. He opened his mouth, probably to protest, but was interrupted.

“I’m here.” Indeed, Jong-up entered right behind Young-jae, looking nonplussed.

“What’s up with every—“ Young-jae began, but Him-chan cut him off.

“Did you see Kim out front?” he snapped.

“Kim? No, why are you so—“ Yong-guk cut him off this time.

“We need to find her.”

* * *

 

Kim tightened the white-knuckled grip on her gun as adrenaline thrummed through her veins, sharpening her vision and making the sharp odor of trodden grass sting in her nostrils. Her vision seemed to zoom in on the smirking man in front of her, details of his countenance jumping out at her like sparks from a fire. However, her mind could not process them, so busy was it racing through her wild emotions.

She couldn't stop shaking.

 _Is...is that him?_ Kim thought frantically. _Is that…Rafael…?_

Her mother’s face flashed in her mind, but not the smiling one in the photographs—the one she _should_ remember—no, the image that Kim always imagined was one twisted in excruciating pain as the fire devoured her. Just as Andy’s wrecked visage haunted her nightmares, her mother’s memory was also marred.

And it was all Rafael Juancalos’ fault. He killed them both, made them suffer and scream and cry. Kim swore years ago, both before and after her mental breakdown, that he would pay—that she would make him suffer in return…and here he was.

Kim poured her hatred for Rafael into the glare she sent down the length of her Browning 9mm. _Keep focus, don’t lose it now,_ she told herself.

And yet her hands would not stop shaking.

The man clearly saw the tremor and smirked even more, his body language the picture of arrogant nonchalance.

It was infuriating.

Kim grit her teeth and shifted her stance, giving herself a mental shake. It was time to get revenge, not to cower like a little girl. _Time to blow that bastard's fuckin head up._ With that bolstering thought, she spoke.

“Rafael.” It came out more like a grunt that anything else.

The mysterious man snickered lightly, almost chidingly, as if Kim had only managed to whimper instead. He advanced, clearing the tree line and entering the moonlit area. Kim’s legs automatically scrambled backwards to maintain the distance between them. Kim concentrated on breathing normally. She really couldn’t feel her fingers, but she knew they were still on the trigger. All she had to do was squeeze.

A bullet in the head or the heart would be too quick, though. She wanted him to _hurt_.

The man clicked his tongue. The expression threw Kim for a moment. Had Rafael ever done that before? He had an unfamiliar face, Kim could see now without squinting, since he was standing fully out in the open. But it wasn't like she'd remember how Rafael looked like either; it had been years and she had only seen obscure pictures of him.

The man spoke. “Come now, do you really think Mr. Juancalos would bother himself with a meager job like this?”

Kim blinked.

 _Wha...It isn't him?_ It felt like something lifted off her mind, and she could suddenly feel her fingers again. Yet, she was…somewhat disappointed.

Frustrated at both the mix-up and this man’s obvious enjoyment at her flustering, Kim returned the gun’s aim to the man’s head.

“Then who the fuck are you?” Kim shouted angrily. The man met her question with the same scornful look. Kim barged on. “Were you the one who attacked my house? I can see that you were by that stupid look on her face! There was a girl here. What did you do to her?”

“What, that nice piece of ass?” the man taunted.

“Answer me!” Kim demanded, trying to keep calm. The man just smiled.

“I didn’t kill her, no worries.”

“Then where is she?” Kim finally got her voice under control, speaking levelly just as the man reached into his shirt's side pocket. Adjusting her aim minutely, she immediately fired a warning shot inches from the man’s left shoulder. “Don’t move!”

“Whoa there, missy. Calm down!” He withdrew an I-Phone and held it up, eyeing her, though still not really taking her seriously, “It's just a phone, you see? I'm just here to deliver you a message...from the boss himself.”

“What are you talking about? Speak clearly!”

The mystery man huffed this time. “Who do you think told me all those tantalizing details about you, Kim Le?” Kim sucked in a breath. Damn, the adrenaline was pumping again.

“My employer told me to get into Puerto Rico for him, and he pays very well,” the man explained as he unlocked the phone and thumbed a few buttons. He smirked yet again—oh how Kim wanted to blow a hole right through that face right now—then extended the device towards Kim. “Say 'Hello.' I made the call for you already.”

Warily, Kim approached, not moving her gun from its target. Her vision narrowed on the phone. _His boss is Rafael, and he wants to talk to me…oh god, what has he done to Sam?_ The thought almost made her drop the phone but she managed to snatch it from Rafael’s lackey—whatever his name was—and she pressed it to her ear with one hand, holding the gun with the other as she backed up a couple paces.

Taking a deep breath, she said, “Hello?”

There was silence on the other line.

Kim could feel her heart thumping inside her ribs. There were so many emotions running through her head. Just when she thought the feelings would drown her, a reply sounded.

“ _Ah...is that how your voice sounds like now?_ ” an older male voice intoned.

Kim's body began to tremble slightly against her will. The man's voice was deep, and he spoke at a leisurely pace, his very words winding lazily in their sentences, causing goosebumps to appear on her arms. Irrationally, Kim felt a deep-seated fear sink like a ton of weight in her stomach. She couldn’t speak.

“ _It's a shame I couldn't be there to actually see with my own eyes what kind of woman you have become,”_ the other’s voice spoke for her.

Kim forced her dry throat to swallow. She was going to kill this man; she had to get it together!

“It...it is a shame. I was also looking forward to meeting you, Rafael.” Kim tried to keep her voice low to hide the quivering in it. Rafael laughed lightly.

_“Ohh? You do? Wow, I feel special.”_

“You should. It's a privilege to have my attention. I’m a busy woman.” She didn’t really know where this sudden bravado was coming from, but she wasn’t going to question it.

_“Indeed. Considering how difficult it was to seek an audience with you the first time—eight years ago, yes? Your mom and that one girl—whose name escapes me—kept on getting in the way.”_

“Her name was Andrea!” Kim almost yelled. The man chuckled.

 _“Yes, yes,”_ he brushed off her protest, “ _Oh, but your mother Linda though...I couldn't forget her. How beautiful she looked...so scared when she begged for her life. And the sight of her body bursting into flames was utterly magnificent,”_ he recounted almost reverently.

Kim bit her lip until it bled as she listened to Rafael speak of her mother’s death. On top of that, the lackey standing in front of her had also begun to leer, clearly enjoying distress in her face and voice himself.

_“Her screams though, were extremely satisfying. I was almost sad the fire didn’t last longer, you know, that’s why I spent so much time cutting up your friend—what was her name again?”_

Kim snapped, and— _Bang!_

* * *

 

Yong-guk’s ears caught the unmistakable sound of a gun firing.

“Where did that shot come from?” Dae-hyun asked, as the members of B.A.P. all swiveled towards the noise.

“Somewhere along the back tree line. There should be a clearing around there,” Zelo stated.

Him-chan was already stepping in that direction. “What are you standing around for, then?” he urged, “That has to be where Kim is. What if someone just shot her?” Yong-guk could easily hear the panic edging his words.

“That was Kim’s gun that fired,” Jong-up spoke up as they all started jogging.

“You know the sound of her _gun_?” Young-jae questioned, surprised. Yong-guk wasn’t. Jong-up was excellent in that way, and in this case, it reassured him greatly, though he maintained a calm exterior anyway.

“Good. Let’s go help her out. Be prepared. We don’t know who she has confronted.” Yong-guk’s mind ran through the options. If it hadn’t been Kim’s opponent who fired… _Does it mean Kim shot a CIA agent? She wouldn’t do that…I think. So then it must be one of Gonzalez’s men? Why would they still risk being around?_

“I bet it was that Hector guy,” Young-jae suddenly piped up from Yong-guk’s left. Yong-guk fixed the younger man with a probing gaze.

“Why do you say that?” B.A.P.’s leader asked levelly, as he checked his weapon’s magazine.

“He isn’t trustworthy,” Young-jae immediately answered, “We didn’t know anything about him, you know, and the guy kept sneering at us and shit. I bet he betrayed us all to the police, trying to save Sam, and everything.”

Yong-guk thought over Young-jae’s theory. It did have credibility. And wasn’t Him-chan and he just discussing that earlier? Yong-guk narrowed his gaze and tamped down on thoughts, ordering them in the way he did whenever he prepared himself for a mission. First things first, then.

If Hector was the one behind all this, he’d die. Simple as that. And if he was attacking Kim right now, he’d suffer immeasurably before death managed to take him.

* * *

 

Jungle bats squeaked loudly and fluttered away from the sudden sound that disrupted the night air.

Rafael’s man lay sprawled on the ground, his face pulled into a look of disbelief as his hand fingered the bleeding wound in his belly. Kim stared, breathing heavily, rage blurring her vision.

“What just....” The man seemed shocked, above all else. Kim couldn’t stand it anymore. Rafael’s words rang in her mind, repeating and repeating. She advanced on her victim and glowered down at him. She swung her gun into position again.

_Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!_

Kim unloaded five more shots into the man, who jerked and grunted with each one until finally, he lay completely still on the ground, blood seeping from the mess that remained of his torso. His empty eyes stared up at the moon, reflecting its cold humor.

Anger, loathing, frustration, sadness, terror—all kinds of emotions whirling in her head, driving her near to madness. Kim knew the man on the ground wasn't Rafael, knew it so glaringly well— _why_ couldn’t it be Rafael. So that he’d just be _dead_ already!

“Aaagh!” Kim growled, halfway to tears. Her leg lashed out, kicking the dead man’s jaw sideways. Let it be said that his aggravating smirk was what earn him his death.

 _“Aw, did you just kill my guy?”_ Rafael mused over the phone ruefully, “ _Now who am I going to use to deliver the goodies that I have in store for you?_ His tone of voice indicated clearly that he did not give a damn that his subordinate just died.

In the distance, Kim saw Him-chan's tall form plowing through the foliage, probably looking for her. The guys must've heard the gun shots. Zelo spotted her first, and waved at the others. Him-chan and the rest of B.A.P. quickly broke into a run towards her, and within a minute, had reached the clearing.

Kim quickly laid a finger over her lips to stop any questions from Him-chan, who looked like he was scanning her body for injuries. Yong-guk immediately spied the dead man behind Kim and raised his eyebrows, looking rather impressed.

Kim gestured to the phone at her ear, then spoke into it, “Why not just fuckin’ come here in person and deliver them to me yourself, _Rafael_?” Kim sneered his name, keeping her voice firm as she could. Both Young-jae and Dae-hyun looked surprised at her vocabulary, but wisely remained silent.

 _“Oooh, you_ are _angry. That is such a turn on,”_ the bastard answered.

Kim almost vomited, but clamped her teeth shut, willing the bile back down. “You _disgust_ me, and someday I will kill you,” she avowed, pacing back and forth.

“ _Patience, my dear. We'll see each other soon, sí?”_ Rafael chided.

“If you want to see me so badly, what's keeping you from coming here? Or perhaps you're too chicken to show your face knowing the U.S government's guard dogs are nearby?” Kim tried goading him.

More laughter echoed from the opposite line. _“’U.S government's guard dogs;’ I like that term. That's precisely what they are. Keep sticking their noses into other people's business,”_ Rafael spoke as though he was on Kim's side, “ _You should be careful too, little one. The guard dogs' noses are very sensitive. They might sniff you out before you even know it.”_

“Thanks for the concern,” Kim replied scornfully, “but I don't need to hide. Nothing illegal can be traced through my business. And for starters, I'm the one with her house ransacked.” She surveyed said house as she talked, eyeing the broken walls once again. Was this what the rest of her life would be like? Running away from this psychopath and watching him and Carlos destroy every good memory she made?

The thought jolted her mind back to Samantha. _Shit. I shouldn't have killed that other bastard so soon._ Kim thought, looking down at the dead body on the ground. The guys could have helped her extract information from the man, but she went and messed it up. _Damn, damn, DAMN!_ Kim could feel the tears pooling in her eyes and shook her head viciously. She would _not_ cry, fuck it all!

Him-chan, of course, noticed her rising distress and stepped towards her. She threw up a hand to hold him back, and took a deep breath. He faced her worriedly, but he inclined his head at her. It was reassuring to know that he had her back, that he believed she had the strength for this. Bolstered, she continued.

“What have you done to my friends?” Kim asked, knowing very well that Rafael would probably have them in his possession.

“ _Well if you didn't kill that guy so quickly, he could’ve told you where one of ‘em was.”_ The man had the gall to chuckle.

Kim furrowed her eyebrows. “Why just 'one?”

_“Oh, ‘cause the girl just arrived here with me. Right at this moment, actually.”_

Kim could hear noises and shouts in the background. Suddenly she heard Sam’s voice scream, _“Let me go!”_

“Sam!” Kim shouted into the cell phone, but there was no other sound from her unfortunate friend. “Bastard! If you dare touch a single hair on her...”

 _“Oh, don't worry. I'll keep her around, since she seems important to you,”_ Rafael mocked. “ _Now, as for the other guy, let's see...I recall that Marco said he put up quite a fight in defense of your friend. Seemed surprisingly skilled, actually.”_

“And what? Where is Hector now? Just tell me!” Kim desperately tried not to imagine what had happened.

_“Perhaps you should ask the police?”_

“What? Why would the police know where he is? Is he with them right now?” Kim asked, thrown. Did that mean Hector had connections with the authorities? Sam never mentioned it, if so. Her peripheral vision caught sight of Yong-guk glancing at Him-chan knowingly, as if a mystery had been solved. He also looked sorta…relieved? But Kim had no time to ponder it further, because Rafael was speaking again.

 _“Most likely,”_ Rafael replied, sounding mildly bored, _“That’s my educated guess anyway. After all, I assume the police did pick up all the other bodies, too.”_

Kim froze. _No…No!_ Rafael was just playing with her, right? He hadn’t been here, so maybe he was just lying to her.

“ _If I remember correctly, Marco said he took care of the boy somewhere within the woods around your house. Why don't you go check it out?”_

Kim immediately did just that, still clutching the phone to her ear.

“Kim!” Him-chan yelled after her, the sound of his footsteps echoing behind her as he followed. The others did as well, calling, “Noona!”

Running ahead, taking shortcuts through the brush that she’d learned in past years, Kim's heart pounded faster as she reached the garden. Her eyes scanned the area for signs of struggle. Sure enough, she noticed a line of crushed flowers and strewn rocks leading into the eastern trees. Her heart hammered.

“What have you done to him!?” Kim shouted into the phone.

“ _Me?_ I _didn’t do anything. I wasn’t even there.”_ He sounded smug. Then leered, _“Are you running, by the way? Cause your breathing sounds sexy.”_

“Fuck you, Rafael!” Kim retorted furiously, even as the bastard laughed.

Kim stepped over bush after bush. _Hector, where are you?_ She turned her head in all directions like a mad woman, squinting and just hoping Hector would come into sight. No luck. Determined not to give up— _for Sam’s sake. He was her friend!—_ Kim made her way deeper into the woods. Yong-guk’s cursing and Him-chan’s calling of her name drew nearer.

“HECTOR!!” Kim screamed to the top of her lungs, both to call for him as well as to signal to B.A.P. her location. Rafael laughed again loudly through the phone.

Kim passed a tree that had had its bark scraped off roughly on one side. There was a dark blotch there, but in the off-colored hue of the moonlight, she couldn’t tell if it was really blood or not. Suddenly, a chill went through her and she instinctively turned to the right.

There.

A body lay face down in the dirt, about four feet from where she stood. Kim paused, breath hitching. It was clearly Hector—all wide, muscled shoulders and tanned skin. His back bore cuts from where he’d fallen against the trees and his hand was still clenched around a sharp rock he’d probably used as a weapon. Kim inched ever closer, dread heavy on her mind.

She knelt down next to the cold body. There was no doubt now. Hector was dead.

“No...” This time, she could not stop the tears from falling down her cheeks. _Not again..._ her mind lamented. Once again, another innocent life ended before her eyes.

 _“There, there. It couldn't be helped,”_ Rafael all but purred in her ear, “ _He was involved with_ you _after all.”_

Kim closed her eyes against the words, though it did no good. It was nothing her own nightmares hadn’t ever told her before.

The guys finally caught up. She looked up to gauge their reactions. Disbelief was clearly written on all their faces. Yong-guk’s expression quickly turned to grim calculation. He nodded to Jong-up, who strode forwards.

With Dae-hyun’s help, Jong-up flipped over the body. Kim forced herself not to turn away as Hector’s face was revealed. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated in death, face pale and slightly yellowed now that blood no longer pumped in his veins. There was a large wound across his left jugular where Marco had undoubtedly managed to shoot Hector’s throat. Kim realized that in the darkness, she had not seen the blood-stained ground beneath Hector’s body.

Him-chan reached out a steadying hand to her shoulder. Young-jae cursed and Jong-up’s mouth moved as he said something, but Kim didn’t bother to listen to him pronounce Hector’s death. It was already obvious. Instead, she forced her voice to work. “I'm going to find you, Rafael. And I'm gonna make you pay…for what you did to all my friends,” Kim swore hoarsely.

Rafael tsked. _“I don't think you're in any position to be threatening me right now, Kimmie. Did you forget your little girlfriend is in my custody at the moment?”_

Kim shut her mouth. He got her there.

She just couldn’t believe it! The nightmares from the past with her mother and with Andrea were happening all over again. This time, it was with Hector and Sam. Hector was dead… but at least he hadn’t been tortured first. But Sam…. _What kind of method would this sadist use to torment her?_ Kim could never, and _would_ never, understand such people.

“Why are you doing this?” she all but whispered, staring straight ahead, aware that everyone was looking at her with varying degrees of concern.

Rafael hummed. _“Well for one, it’s quite fun, you know. But mostly, it is my job after all.”_

“You’re just torturing people because your god-forsaken boss Carlos tells you so?” Kim raged, “Why go thisfar just for a couple of money plates? How greedy can you be?”

 _“Isn't 'greed' what brought all of us here together?”_ Rafael mused, _“Greed was what drove your beloved father and his ‘boyfriend’ T.S. to betray my boss and steal the plates from him. We are just trying to get back what is rightfully ours. And yes, we are willing to do whatever it takes to have them in our possession again.”_

 _Whatever it takes…_ Kim’s mind repeated hollowly. She had the terrible feeling that by the end of all this, what it was going to take from her…was everything.

()()()()()()()()()()()

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're a follower on asianfanfiction.com, or want to see how some readers freaked out about this turn of events, feel free to go join them. I hear misery over a fictional character's death loves company. (In any case, I'd rather you weep together than decide to lynch me.)


	32. Worries and Suspicions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Hector off the list, Yong-guk has some difficult decisions to make. Kim, however, has different worries to occupy her.

* * *

Yong-guk quickly grew restless watching Kim press the phone firmly to her ear, staring blearily ahead. Her expression looked utterly lost. Clearly, Rafael was controlling the conversation too well. Before he could yank the phone from Kim, however, Him-chan gave Kim’s shoulder a firm squeeze, whispering fiercely in her ear. Kim turned to him and blinked, the haze lifting from her eyes.

Yong-guk guessed that whatever Him-chan had said was supportive enough that Kim would be all right. For now. Meanwhile, he spared a second to glance again at Hector's body lying haphazardly in the bushes, dead as the crunchy leaves around him. _Well, there goes the suspicion of him being the CIA agent,_ Yong-guk mused. It would have been better if the issue had been resolved twofold. It still technically could be. Maybe Hector was the CIA spy and had ended up dying before his backup arrived. Then again, if one of their own had been killed, the CIA dogs would still be roaming the area with a fine-tooth comb.

Yong-guk sighed. Only time—and research—would tell. But first, the phone call.

“All right then. I'll bring the plates to you. Tell me where you are,” Kim was saying. Admirably, her voice did not shake, though it still squeaked slightly. Yong-guk didn’t particularly care about how she sounded at the moment though, because right now she was making a decision that was _not_ hers to make. _Idiot! Don't give in to him that easy,_ Yong-guk groused mentally.

He strode over to Kim and extended a hand. “Give me the phone.” Kim quickly sidestepped.

“Kim! Give me the damn phone! I'll deal with him!” Yong-guk demanded, but Kim continued to ignore him. Yong-guk wanted to snatch the device roughly from his friend but was abruptly halted by Him-chan.

“Calm down,” his second-in-command advised, “Just let her talk to him. He might tell her where he and Carlos are hiding.”

Yong-guk stared him down. “Like hell he would. Rafael is a lot smarter than that. Are you not familiar with his methods? He likes to play mind games and mess around with his prey before he actually finishes them off. He’s only toying with Kim right now.”

Him-chan had no reply, when faced with what was clearly the truth.

“How about you bring Samantha here and we'll do the exchange?” Kim shouted then, trying to make her own deal with Rafael. There was a pause, and then Kim replied harshly, “Wha...No! I'm giving you the plates back. Just bring Sam back here and—No! Wait!” Kim yanked the phone away, scowling at it. She sniffed once, but ultimately did not break down into tears. Her fingers jabbed the screen, trying to redial Rafael's number, but it went straight to voice mail.

“Shit!” Kim cursed, now truly frustrated.

“What did he say?” Him-chan prompted gently. Yong-guk bit the inside of his lip to refrain from what _he_ would have asked, namely, what did _Kim_ say while she was fruitlessly trying to bargain with Rafael.

Kim met Him-chan’s gaze almost desperately, latching onto his soft tone. Well, that’s why Him-chan was the one who soothed things, not Yong-guk. Kim was speaking, “He said, ‘What kind of a fool do we take him for.’ If we don't adhere to his request then there is no deal. I tried to get him to elaborate but he wouldn't listen.” Kim started pacing. “All he told me before he hung up was to keep an eye out for his email.”

Him-chan heaved a sigh but wrapped a comforting arm around Kim’s shoulders, “That's to be expected. It's just like Yong-guk said. He won't let you off that easily. He’s trying to play with you, make you worry. You can’t give in, okay?”

Yong-guk rolled his eyes. As much as he cared for Kim, sometimes she really annoyed him. “If you had given me the phone and let _me_ deal with him then maybe we could avoid making more of a mess of the situation,” Yong-guk snarled. Kim bristled at his tone and leaned into Him-chan as she crossed his arms defensively.

“And do you think you would’ve pulled off a better deal, Yong-guk? Like you said, Rafael isn't an idiot. He would have stayed in control no matter what. Don't forget he has Samantha now and he’s going to use her as leverage to take advantage of us,” Kim shouted back.

“Now guys,” Him-chan was attempting to ease the situation, but Yong-guk was not going to have this anymore. Him-chan played the mediator almost constantly between himself and Kim, whenever they truly fought, but Yong-guk didn’t exactly feel inclined to be mediated right now.

He leaned forwards, looming into Kim’s vision, uncaring how the moonlight made his face look severe and foreboding.

“Honestly, Kim, at this point, I couldn’t care less about Samantha. Hector's dead now. So you can guess what will be Samantha's fate now that she's in Rafael's hands. That girl has brought nothing but trouble to our operations. She slows us down. We had to change our plans so many fuckin’ times because of her. Maybe with her out of the way, we finally might be able to get back on track!” Yong-guk saw the hurt flash across Kim’s eyes, and a part of him felt just a bit remorseful for that last sentence, but he wouldn’t lose ground now. He narrowed his eyes to emphasize his anger, then swiveled on his toes and strode back towards the safe house, shoulders stiff.

He’d just reached the ruined back door when he forced himself to exhale audibly, rolling his shoulders to release the muscles. He stopped to collect his thoughts.

What he’d told Kim was true. Civilians needed to stay the hell away from the mafia's issues. If someone was unlucky like Samantha, who unconsciously befriended a mafia member, it was her damn fault for staying and putting her own life on the line. It was not his responsibility as the leader of B.A.P. to see to her safety, no matter what Kim thought.

“How could you say something like that, Yong-guk?” came a loud shout from behind him. _Speaking of which…_ Yong-guk braced himself for another rampage and turned. Kim marched up to him, full of vigor. However, when she spoke, her voice emerged softly and controlled, though no less infused with passion.

“You are not me. You don't know exactly how I feel all the time. Sam might not be important to _you_ but she is to me. I don't want her to have the same end as my mother or Andrea. I failed to protect them, but I won't let Sam suffer the same fate. I _won’t_ ,” Kim asserted, brown eyes attempting to spear his own with the force of her vow.

In some ways, Yong-guk admired Kim’s conviction. It was part of who she was, and compared to how broken she had been after her mother’s death, Kim was loads stronger now. It was for this reason that Yong-guk amended his inclination to shout back.

“Haven't you learned anything from Andrea's incident?” Yong-guk questioned delicately, “You know that with your position, you cannot get too close to anyone who lives in normal society. Our worlds are too different. You couldn't do anything to prevent your mother's death just like you couldn't with Hector's. You couldn't protect Andrea then, so what makes you think you can protect Sam now?” Despite, his resolve, his voice had risen at the end. He was trying so hard to be as persuasive as Him-chan could so easily be.

“I have kept her safe!” Kim protested, “She’s worked for me a long time, okay? I’ve managed to shield her from all the illegal activities at _Le Yacht_ and from our enemies all those times... until now.”

“Sorry to cut this to you, but without B.A.P.’s help, Samantha would've been long gone way before today.”

Yong-guk knew his words were unsympathetic, but it had to be said. Kim needed to stop acting recklessly based on personal emotions alone. He could see them dictating her actions even now. Pain was etched in the lines of her face all too clearly, though she tried to hide it from him. She shook her head, sending her hair swirling about her.

“My problem with Rafael is personal, you know that. And it goes back beyond what you and the other guys have done for me here in Puerto Rico these last few weeks. I _will_ get Sam back safely and settle my score with him once and for all, no matter what it takes.” Kim stated firmly. _Well damn._ Yong-guk knew that tone. Kim was entirely convinced, and he had lost this argument. Kim went on.

“You mark my words, Yong-guk. I won't be looked down upon for this. _Especially_ by you. I can see what you’re thinking about me: that I’m emotional and a liability and stupid, and all that, but, like I said: You’re not me, and…I’m not you.”

Yong-guk was caught off guard for a few seconds. _Where did this determination suddenly come from?_ _Wasn’t she just sobbing to Him-chan and frantically trying to cut a deal with a madman like some little lost lamb a moment ago?_

Yong-guk peered into Kim’s eyes, discerning, and then relaxed. At this moment, the levelheaded Kim that he used to know was finally back. He softened his gaze a little and turned away.

“All right then. Your words are marked,” he replied. “Own up to them and do whatever it takes.” He walked into the safe house, resisting the urge to look back and see what kind of expression Kim was wearing then. _Be strong. Don't lose that drive within you, Kim. The drive that got you to where you are will serve you well now._ He sighed, lifting a hand to rub his forehead stressfully, now that there was no one around to see him do it. _And if you falter..._ well, Yong-guk supposed he’d just have to help again. He didn’t let her down years ago. He couldn’t very well abandon her now.

Shaking his head, he cleared his mind with three deep breaths, as T.S. taught him to do. When he opened his eyes, his mind was already racing to accommodate the new plans. There were people to call, reports to be given, and…a spy to catch.

* * *

 

Him-chan and the other four guys stayed behind after Kim had run off to pursue Yong-guk. Although Him-chan was tempted to follow, he knew Kim would get her way in the end. Yong-guk could be just as stubborn as Kim, true, but Kim had more riding on this ordeal, plain and simple. With or without B.A.P.’s help, she would go after Samantha. Yong-guk had to know that they’d never let her go alone, no matter how foolhardy it’d be.

Him-chan at least could speak for himself—he’d go after her in a heartbeat to keep her safe. _Sometimes Yong-guk focuses too much on being a leader,_ Him-chan thought.

Jong-up and Young-jae were bending down beside Hector's body.

“What should we do with him?” Young-jae asked, deferring to Him-chan.

“I think we should just leave him here. The police will be returning with the morning most likely. They can take the body then.” Him-chan suppressed a sigh. He sounded rather heartless to the poor kid; however, having the police take care of his body seemed more appropriate. They could at least give the guy a proper burial.

 _And if he had been the spy, then they’d want to bury their own._ Unfortunately, Him-chan didn’t think he had been the CIA agent at all, despite all the heavy suspicions. He wouldn’t have died if he were. Well, okay, so he could have been an agent who botched up his mission and gotten himself killed, but Him-chan doubted it. There would have been back up.

No doubt Yong-guk would have surmised all this already, which meant that now they had to figure out who had revealed the safe house location to the authorities.

The damage to the generator could have been done by anyone connected to the San Juan PD and given the necessary intel. What Him-chan wanted to know was who disclosed the safe house said details. _One of Derek’s men?_ If so, that would be better than having to suspect one of B.A.P.

This time, Him-chan did sigh. Regardless of his feelings on the matter, the issue needed investigation. To shy away from an undesirable conclusion could prove fatal. He looked to his fellow B.A.P. members.

“C'mon! We need to get the hell outta here.” Him-chan started off towards safe house.

A thought occurred to him, and he stopped. _Maybe if I can have one or two of the boys stay back and observe the police reaction when they come upon Hector’s body, we could better discover the boy’s identity._ Him-chan reasoned. He surveyed the other four young men.

Dae-huyn and Zelo returned at the same time that Yong-guk did. But Young-jae and Jong-up had been delayed. Even though Young-jae did mention something about being held back in America due to the CIA's searching radar…it was still time unaccounted for.

Him-chan frowned intensely at Young-jae's back, hating the fact that he had to suspect him. It made his stomach roil uncomfortably. He switched his gaze to Jong-up.

The tall boy was walking with a blank face, his thoughts definitely elsewhere. If Him-chan looked closely, he could tell the situation was dragging on him. Jong-up was easy to read, really. At the moment, he just looked tired. He’d do whatever Yong-guk told him to, if necessary, but he still needed a break now and again. Jong-up never liked it when Yong-guk and Kim fought, mostly because he couldn’t differentiate when they were joking or serious. Poor kid.

Young-jae on the other hand was a whole different puzzle. Boisterous enough to be called abrasive eight times out of ten, the guy was definitely B.A.P.’s antagonizer. But even better, he could direct his aggressive personality towards any kind of operation B.A.P. took on. He performed extremely well in surprising the opponent after pretending to be one of their own—undoubtedly a handy talent for undercover work. Then again, wasn’t B.A.P. the one who taught him how to do such things in the first place?

Young-jae glanced back just then, as if physically feeling Him-chan’s thoughts about him. He raised his eyebrows, nonplussed. “What is it Hyung? Why are you walking so slowly?” The young man questioned, face open.

“Oh, I was just thinking that's all,” Him-chan answered. It frustrated him, truly, because whenever Young-jae talked to any one of them, he was always so candid and comfortable. If he was a spy, wouldn’t he be less…annoying?

“What kind of thoughts are running through your head to make you pull that dreadfully serious expression?” Young-jae needled jokingly.

Him-chan frowned. _Guess I need to be a little more subtle._ “I was thinking that since the CIA is on our case now, perhaps it would be a good idea to have someone stay back to observe the their activity here at the safe house,” Him-chan explained.

“Ok, good idea. Who do you have in mind?” Dae-hyun prompted.

“Well, Young-jae is really good at playing the inside man. I'm sure he knows a few tricks or two on how not to get caught when on a stake-out mission,” Him-chan replied, looking at Young-jae while he spoke to catch any abnormal reaction.

“Sure, I don't mind staying back,” came Young-jae’s easy reply. His face portrayed a bit of confusion for being singled out, but he nodded gamely.

“Good, and you need at least one more person, just in case...your cover's blown. You can help each other escape.” Him-chan surveyed them all a moment, then laid a hand on Dae-hyun’s shoulder.

“Dae-hyun, why don't you and Zelo go back and assist Yong-guk and Kim. I'll stay with Young-jae.”

“Are you sure? Wouldn't Yong-guk hyung feel more comfortable with you around since things are getting so messy now?” Dae-hyun wondered.

Him-chan swung his head in Jong-up's direction. “It looks like Jong-up needs some rest anyway. Just look at him. If Jong-up stays then Young-jae might end up looking out for him instead. That won't do. And I know you are eager to start the search for Sam as quick as possible. You and Kim can work together. You’ll need Zelo for the search, so I’m the one who’s left.”

He saw both Jong-up and Zelo nod in agreement, so he turned to Young-jae.

“Besides, Young-jae and I work very well together.” Him-chan reached over to hug Young-jae's shoulders. “Remember the car chase a while back? You were excellent at it.”

“Urg, don't remind me, Hyung,” Young-jae sighed, “Almost made my heart stop, that shit…but of course I was excellent at it. C'mon now, you can't find those driving skills anywhere. Especially off the street.”

Him-chan snorted, “Right…anyways, I think now would be the perfect time for us to renew our brotherhood again, right?”

Young-jae just screwed up his nose trying to figure out what Him-chan meant by that.

Soon, Dae-hyun, Zelo and Jong-up were walking back to the house, leaving Him-chan and Young-jae behind to find the perfect hiding spot. While he searched, Him-chan tried to think up a list of probing questions that he could ask Young-jae. He didn’t know what he could do if Young-jae did not answer satisfactorily. Hopefully, _hopefully,_ all his worry would be for naught.

* * *

 

Kim and Yong-guk leaned on their respective cars while they waited for the others to join them, each lost in their own plans and worries. Soon, Zelo, Jong-up and Dae-hyun strode into view. Yong-guk squinted at the three boys.

“Where're Him-chan and Young-jae?”

“Him-chan hyung wanted to linger and observe the police reaction to finding Hector’s body, and probably to gauge the CIA strength of numbers,” Zelo answered, pulling ear buds from his pocket. He often listened to music on car rides, and always had a playlist ready on his phone for down time. “Oh, and he made Young-jae accompany him.”

Yong-guk grinned. _To keep an eye on him, no doubt. Good,_ he thought. There was rarely a moment when Yong-guk wasn't appreciative of Him-chan's foresight into how Yong-guk’s mind worked. His second-in-command possessed what Yong-guk lacked, that is, attention to minor details and creating quiet methods of investigating them. Yong-guk was truly glad to have Him-chan by his side.

“I told Hyung that I could've stayed instead since you needed him to plan out our next move together but he insisted,” Dae-hyun added. Yong-guk waved it off.

“That's quite all right Dae-hyun. Him-chan did exactly what I would've asked him to do. He actually got us a head start with our next op.” Yong-guk’s phone chose that moment to vibrate through his jeans' pocket. It was a voice mail from Derek, and apparently, he had called several times before, during the heated moments of Kim and Rafael’s conversation. Yong-guk's head had been so focused on it that he ignored all incoming calls.

“Ah shit! I forgot to call your dad back,” he bemoaned, clicking his phone open.

Kim's eyes widened as if the thought to check also just occurred to her. She pulled out her own phone and realized it bore missed calls as well. “He called me, too…during the time I was talking to Rafael.”

Yong-guk mildly wondered what urgent business Derek could have for him as he followed Kim to the car she and Him-chan had driven to the safe house. Then he snorted. Well, what else but his safe house, obviously? It was wrecked.

He looked around to ensure that Dae-hyun was driving instead of sleepy Jong-up, and that Zelo would be driving the third car before closing his door. They’d just have to come back to pick up Him-chan and Young-jae later. It wouldn’t do to leave their third vehicle lying around for the CIA to find.

The three-car caravan revved their engines and drove away from the safe house, headlights leading the way in the darkness. Yong-guk listened to his voicemail as he turned the Aventador J off the lot and onto the rural highway. Kim sat in the passenger's seat—where Yong-guk had made her sit, saying that she was in no condition to drive. It had said something of Kim’s true state-of-mind that she had acquiesced without much objection at all.

 _“I need to speak with you. Meet me at Ritz Carlton San Juan Casino Spa at 7:30 a.m.,”_ Derek’s voice was saying over the phone.

The voicemail ended after those two short sentences. Derek did not sound pleased and Yong-guk found himself frowning. Ultimately, he and B.A.P. answered to T.S. and followed his orders. But Derek and T.S. had always been close. Arguing with one often turned into arguing with the other, and he didn’t really need Derek’s animosity right now.

Sighing softly, he glanced at the dashboard clock. 6:15 a.m. _Damn._ It took an hour to get to San Juan. Add in the morning traffic, and they’d be pressed for time to the get to the Ritz. So much for thoughts of taking a two-hour nap. At least once the sun rose in about half an hour, it’d be at their backs and not blinding their eyes while they drove.

Yong-guk spared a glance for Kim who had grown extremely quiet after listening to her own voicemail.

“What did he say?” He asked curiously.

Kim sighed, “Probably the same thing he left on your voicemail.” She looked exhausted, emotionally more so than physically. Whatever her dad had said probably wasn't anything like the usual randomly eccentric trivialities they tended to exchange.

“Can you speed up a little? Dad doesn't like to be kept waiting,” Kim said, eventually seeming even more restless now.

“Of course, I know that. I am anxious, too.” Yong-guk returned his eyes to the road.

Kim yawned by his side ostensibly. “Good,” she acknowledged, “And since you so kindly _insisted_ on being the one to drive, you won’t mind if I take the time to sleep, right? Fantastic! Nighty night.”

Yong-guk did not need to look over to see the satisfied smirk on Kim’s face, nor did he want her to see the jealousy in his eyes. He did, however, indulge himself by pouting a little.

Even though she had her eyes shut, Kim added, “And don’t pout about it. Just concentrate on driving my car safely. Don’t get any ideas about blowing it up now.”

“Ha ha,” Yong-guk grumbled, rolling his eyes, “Just go to sleep already.”

She did.

()()()()()()()()()()()()


	33. Anger and Suspicions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek makes an appearance, the mystery just gets more muddled, and T.S. lays on the expectations. Yong-guk really just wants to go to sleep.

* * *

They arrived at the  _Ritz Carlton_ right at 7:28 a.m. Kim hurried to the elevator and got herself on the way to her father's suite first, recognizing it easily for the two guards standing post outside of his room. They bowed their heads when Kim approached.

“Good morning, Miss Le,” they greeted and open the door for her politely as she rushed past.

“Dad!” Kim shouted, panting. The wall clock showed that she had arrived on time at exactly 7:30 a.m.

Derek stood facing the glass sliding doors that lead to the balcony, which overlooked a beautiful view of the oceanfront. His private suite was the VIP room and it was only rented for top-ranked businessmen from all over the world. These rooms occupied the highest level of the _Ritz Carlton San Juan Casino Spa Hotel_.

Her father was wearing his business suit, the one made entirely of black cotton, paired with a monochrome grey silk as his neck tie. His hair was smooth and neatly combed back. In his right hand rested an Aficionado Cigar that he seemed to be enjoying at the moment. His complete attire reflected the image of someone who had power and utilized it with a iron grip: a mafia lord. Kim occasionally saw her father dressed as such, and when she did, the need to be respectful towards this man was absolutely required.

She cleared her throat softly and reworded her greeting, “Good morning, Father. If I may ask, what are you still doing here? I thought you were on your way to MaCau for our Rêve D'or Casino's Grand Opening?” Kim asked, trying to catch her breath.

Derek finally turned around and looked directly at Kim. “I was, until I received a distress signal from my vacation house here in San Juan so I hurried back.” Derek raised his phone, showing the image of their alarm system alert message.

“By the time I returned, I noticed the house was completely trashed.” He circled around Kim, who ceased breathing. She felt her muscles tense in response to his dangerous tone. _Shit, they were in trouble…_ she thought, as her father continued, “None of my bodyguards were in sight, either missing or dead. Cops were crawling all over my property, sealing off every possible entrance and route that I could possibly take. And neither you nor Yong-guk cared to answer my phone calls. ” Derek inclined his head at the flat screen 50-in TV. Kim quickly scanned the headlines to see the breaking news scrolling across the screen. Images of their vacation home/safe house flashed one after another. Kim could hear the anger building in Derek’s breathing alone and dared not speak.

Luckily, Yong-guk and the other three B.A.P. members with him arrived precisely at that moment. The guards closed the door firmly behind them, and Derek rounded on them instead.

“What the hell happened?” Derek demanded, “I left you kids on your own for only a few days and look at all the trouble you caused me.” Derek made sure to include Kim in his scolding, walking back to his foreboding position by the balcony door.

He pinned her with a glare. “I was angry yet did not once say a word when you neglected your responsibilities for _Le Yacht_ in favor of running about with B.A.P. But then you let the whole place go down by completely abandoning the business. Now, not only have I lost one of the most successful yacht businesses in the Caribbean, but my safe house was also invaded, ransacked and currently being investigated by the police,” Derek fumed. No one dared to say anything in the face of his fury. They all kept their heads down and avoided making eye contact with him. Well, all except Yong-guk, whose pride made him keep his head up. He still didn’t meet Derek’s gaze, though, instead directing it over the man’s head.

“What happened to the security system you set up for the safe house?” Derek focused his attention on Zelo now, “I thought you were supposedly good at what you do.”

“Well...,” Zelo fumbled for a moment, but steadied, “The safe house's security was set up on a passcode system and the only ones who knew the codes were people within our group. I am confident that the security firewall I personally designed for the safe house was impossible to break. Additionally, the front gate was fully equipped with high voltage shockwave fences. Anyone who did not know the passcode and attempted to climb the gates would be electrocuted.”

“By the time we got back, the gate was completely open and I found debris lying around the area of where we set up the high voltage alarm, which indicated that the attack was conducted from inside the property,” Dae-hyun continued after Zelo.

“Actually, it only indicates that someone managed to disable the security system, most likely with the passcode itself. There’s no way to tell now whether the fence went down after or before the generator was destroyed. I couldn’t salvage any data on that particular detail,” Zelo corrected.

“Yea, that’s what I meant—“ Dae-hyun was interrupted by Derek.

“Are you implying that there's a traitor among your group?” Derek questioned, looking over to Yong-guk, eyes narrowed.

To his credit, Yong-guk did not flinch. “Or yours.”

Derek looked ready to smack him, and Yong-guk inclined his head respectfully, “We don't know for sure yet. I’m not ready to assign blame without proof. For now, two of B.A.P. are still at the safe house observing the police's activities. They'll contact us if they find anything.”

“Were you able to find out who was behind the attack at least?” Derek seemed to calm down smidgen, though he was nowhere near satisfied. He took a seat on one of the white sofas near the TV, cigar still held gracefully in one hand.

Kim tensed at the question, and she closed her eyes tightly against the memory of the last few hours and the conversations she’d had. She finally looked up and met her father's eyes, forcing herself to speak, “It was...Rafael...well at least I thought it was him. But it was his men that made the attack.”

Derek's expression darkened and he laid down his cigar gingerly on the glass astray bedside him.

“They kidnapped Samantha and killed her friend Hector,” Kim continued in a shaking voice.

Her father considered her for a moment, but looked over to Yong-guk again instead, “So the mole among us...is he working for Rafael?”

“That is possible… however with the CIA’s involvement, it's unlikely. Everything's a mess right now and we find ourselves lacking information. That's why I had Him-chan and Young-jae stay behind. What we do know for sure, though, is that Rafael will use Samantha to demand the exchange of the plates.”

Derek remained silent for moment, then instructed, “Come with me.”

* * *

 

Yong-guk complied with Derek’s command, following him as he stood from the sofa and headed towards a wooden door in the far wall. The others made to follow, but Derek halted them.

“The rest of you stay here. I'd like to have a word with Yong-guk alone.” Derek turned definitively and strode through the door.

Yong-guk took a quick look at his team then followed Derek.

The room turned out to be a large master bedroom done in light neutrals and complete with its own wide balcony and spectacular view. Another sofa abutted a low coffee table facing the airy opening and the adjacent wall sported a flatscreen TV. Derek crossed the room and pulled the balcony curtains shut, sending the room into the low light that all hotel rooms seemed to possess. He picked up a Mac laptop lying on the table and started typing as he sat down.

“Things are getting a lot messier than I expected,” Derek sighed, settling himself back into the cushions. “Perhaps I was mistaken for involving Kim in this matter.”

“Even if you could have prevented her involvement, she still would have managed to get herself involve anyways,” Yong-guk said practically, advancing into the room as well and walking toward Derek. “You should know your own daughter better than anyone.”

“Yes, that was why I didn't bother to stop her. I have admitted defeated to her stubbornness and strong will long ago,” Derek huffed, “I wonder where she got those nasty traits from.”

Derek stopped typing and picked up the remote to turn on the TV. The screen, which was connected to the laptop by a strand of white wires, showed a progress bar with the word “connecting” blinking below it.

“Like father like daughter,” Yong-guk joked. Derek glanced up to him just as the connection went through.

The TV winked open on a window view of T.S. inside his own study. It was night time in Korea and T.S was dressed in his chic casual clothes. The sight of his boss straightened Yong-guk’s posture immediately, though he tried to control it. He couldn’t help the reaction; he’d been doing it for so long. The habit was ingrained and made stronger by his rock solid respect for the man.

“It's been a while since I last saw your face, old friend.” T.S. greeted Derek first, who nodded.

“Good evening, sir,” Yong-guk spoke, vying for professionalism. T.S. admired that in him, perhaps because he often spent time telling Yong-guk little tidbits and advice here and there when in private.

“Yong-guk,” T.S. greeted, “How are things progressing over there? Were you able to act as planned?”

“Why don't you relay everything that has happened within this past week for the both of us? I'd like to hear it with a little more in-depth than the half-assed report my daughter has been giving me,” Derek prompted, setting the remote back down on the table.

A little conscientiously, Yong-guk did just that, objectively as he could, of course.

“So your plan really did work. You managed to capture Carlos' attention and lure Rafael closer to you,” T.S. concluded after Yong-guk finished.

“What are your next steps?” Derek asked.

“Well, I was thinking it would probably be better for the plates to be on their way to T.S. now that Rafael is targeting you again,” Yong-guk answered looking over to Derek. “Also, with the CIA's currently stationed here in San Juan, I think it would be wise for you and Kim to maneuver to a different location for the time being. At the same time, the boys and I will go ahead with our next plan to catch both Rafael and Rodriguez.”

“How will you manage to find them? They have yet to tell you their location,” Derek pointed out. Yong-guk refrained from chewing his lip, though he really wanted to. What Derek said was true, of course, and it was a snag he had been trying to work on during the drive into the city.

“That should be easy to solve,” T.S. announced from the live stream video. T.S. looked up at his boss, waiting. Orders sounded good. It’d save him a headache or two. “We can make use of that girl - Kim's friend. She got kidnapped, you said. So, just use the situation in order to find them. If he really wants to trade, enter it as if you will agree to trade. Once Carlos tells you his location, kill him.”

“T.S., that girl is also…,” Yong-guk trailed off, frowning. He was hesitant to bring up any mention of Samantha’s connection to Kayla right now. T.S.’s perception towards his daughter was…mercurial. At times he showed faint remorse; and other times, flippancy. Yong-guk knew enough to leave it alone. In any case, he figured this wasn't the time for trivial information.

Compare to T.S., Derek was the polar opposite when his daughter's safety was in jeopardy, so he said, “We can definitely use that to our advantage. However, Kim's gonna have to be involved.”

“No!” Derek instantly objected, “There is no way I am willing to have my daughter involved any deeper in this situation.” He sprung up to standing.

“Rafael ensured that Kim would be a major player permanently in this game by giving her exclusive email access to all the information we need to know. He had played his cards well,” Yong-guk explained, “She's the only one that Rafael is contacting right now.” Derek looked mutinous, but could not refute the fact.

“Knowing Carlos and the way he used to run ops, expect for his demands of trade. If we agree to that, he'll tell us exactly where the tradeoff is going to take place,” T.S. continued, “We'll keep Kim as the main point of contact as Rafael wants, obviously. At the same time we'll tell her exactly what to say and how to deal with him. Then we'll wait for the opportune moment to strike once Rafael has informed us the location.” T.S. said all this quickly and decisively. No lingering pauses and uncertainty colored his tone. He was renowned for this in the mafia world; his professionalism shone when dealing with situations like this.

Derek, again, was his opposite, and fell back into his chair, running one hand down his forehead and exhaled a long and heavy breath, “You speak as if everything can be easily taken care of, and that Rodriguez will do exactly what you speculate. Have you ever thought about the “what if’s?” Perhaps Rodriguez knows that you can predict him? What if he suddenly changes the ways he approaches things and traps us instead?”

“Please, aren't you giving Rodriguez a lot more credit than he deserves?” T.S. snorted. “Carlos is a conventional man. He became accustomed with using the standard methods—especially since they were all working out so well. Plus, he's also become too reliable on his lackeys, namely, Rafael.”

“Well fine, T.S., but then also consider the possibility of both of them not showing up at all for the tradeoff. They could send hoards of armed men to ambush B.A.P. and my daughter. If that happens not only do we lose the plates, but also the likelihood of finally capturing them— _if_ they don’t outright kill them all,” Derek warned. His logic did make a lot of sense in many ways to Yong-guk and he tucked the thoughts into the back of his mind to consider later. In the meantime, the discussion had boiled down to Derek and T.S. and no way was Yong-guk going to get in between them. He’d let them hash it out themselves.

“That is a good point,” T.S. commented, “But you truly worry too much, my friend. Have more faith in my _highly-trained_ and hand-picked men.” (Yong-guk tried not to preen at these words.) “Plus, if we show up with his precious money plates this time, after all these years, Carlos will be sure to receive them with his own hands. It's like giving a kid his favorite brand of candy that he's been craving.”

Derek and Yong-guk exchanged a glance. Yong-guk was quite fascinated by his boss’ ability to deliver speeches. T.S was always good at planning ahead. Unlike Rodriguez, who tended to use brute force and fear to create impact on his foes whenever something didn’t go his way. T.S. was infinitely more subtle and collected. He made sure to observe and dissect the situation for possible opportunities to strike. He strove to understand his enemies well, and his speculations were rarely inaccurate. _An excellent strategist,_ Yong-guk thought. No doubt he was truly the original creator of B.A.P. This man is to be feared.

“It's not that I don't consider your ‘what if’s’ a possibility, Derek.” T.S. went on assuredly as he sipped his mug of herbal tea, “In fact I did consider them before sending B.A.P to you. None of them would have ended with harm done to Kim. You’ve trusted me for years, Derek, and with good reason. Do so now. B.A.P. has their ways of activating emergency G.P.S. devices on their person in necessary cases. I’ll have Zelo pass on the device to Kim.”

He glanced at Yong-guk, who was quick to acknowledge the underlining order. Meanwhile, Derek massaged his forehead again, aggravating the wrinkles that lay there. In the end, his trust won out.

“Ok, fine. I don't doubt Zelo’s tech-wiz skills or any of your boys of their abilities, in fact. But you cannot possibly guarantee Kim’s safety in this,” Derek finally said looking over to Yong-guk. “I don't intend on endangering her life any more than I already have.”

“Mr. Le,” Yong-guk spoke firmly, “Kim has always wanted to get revenge on Rafael—for what he did to your wife and to Andrea. I don't think she'd agree to be taken out of the operation. If you forbid her, you know she’ll find a way to go anyway. I’d rather be with her if that’s the case.”

T.S. added compellingly, “Don't worry. Kim will be fine. Don't take that long waited opportunity away from her, Derek. You raised your daughter well. Have a little faith in her ability for once? Besides if anything should go wrong, we can just use the abducted girl as our way out. Just like we did with that one girl before. Everything should be fine.”

 _Fine?_ Yong-guk thought of Kayla and had to disagree. She was also abducted and ended up dying due to T.S's cold attitude and refusal to take action. _No that isn’t entirely true. He did send B.A.P. for her rescue but we arrived too late._ T.S. did care. At least, Yong-guk would like to think that he did. Kayla had been his one and only daughter after all. For what it was worth, Yong-guk really had hoped that T.S. cared for his daughter the way Derek did for Kim.

T.S. was talking to Yong-guk now that Derek was soothed somewhat, so Yong-guk shook his thoughts away to refocus. “This situation is quite delicate,” T.S. was saying, “I need all of you to stay one step ahead of the game. Do not lose your cool and start acting recklessly when Rodriguez starts sending you death threats. His method is to use fear to manipulate you. If you act upon your emotions alone, you are likely to fall into his trap. One wrong move could cause everything to go wrong.” Yong-guk nodded, and soon their little conference was over.

Derek reached up and turned off the monitor then he looked over to Yong-guk, measuring the younger man critically. “Whatever it takes, you must make sure my daughter is well and alive when all of this is over. Understand, boy?”

“Very well, sir.”

()()()()()()()()()()

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think someone reviewed on asianfanfiction that these chapters drag a bit. We apologize for that. The character development was necessary to set everyone's motivations straight. Keep going. If the previous chapters have shown you anything, the action will return. It always does.


	34. Horror and Suspicions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kim finds out what's happening to Samantha, to her horror, and makes a vow for revenge. Can she follow through, though? In another area of San Juan, the CIA are getting awfully close to BAP. However, Him-chan has his hands full trying to interrogate Young-jae...without seeming like he's doing so.

* * *

Kim was pacing back and forth in front of the closed door her father and Yong-guk had entered, wondering what kind of conversation would require such privacy. It was rare to see her dad this serious and she hated how anxious and restless the uncommon mood made her.

The vibration of a text message popped her out of her thoughts. It said only this: _Get on a computer and login to the email account iluvtorture@rafa.net. PW: Rafa <3Kim.”_ Holy shit, it was a message from Rafael! Kim immediately dialed his number but, again, it went straight to his voicemail. _Damn it!_ She turned to Zelo and grabbed his laptop.

“Hey! I was working on that!” Zelo griped.

“Let me borrow it for a moment. Rafael sent me an email address.” Kim hastily typed in the disgustingly personalized email address and password. Zelo, his curiosity peaked, scooted next to her. The other two boys crowded over her as well, Dae-hyun’s face a mixture of concern and trepidation. Kim had no doubt her face looked the same.

The email’s inbox had been decked with a gaudy pink heart motif, all the more to infuriate her, Kim was sure, and one lone new message was bolded in plain view. It looked like a video message of some sort. Indeed, the title of it declared “I luv torture.”

Her heart thumping, Kim slowly double clicked on the link and a screen popped up. All four of them waited nervously as the buffering made its agonizingly slow ascent to 100%.

A flash of white and suddenly Rafael’s face lit up on the screen.

 _“Hey...oh, is it on?”_ Rafael said to the camera, _“Heyyy! Greetings, my lovely! I hope you are well during this fine evening or morning...whatever time you happen to be watching this video.”_

Kim couldn't stop her body from starting to tremble. It was the first time she had seen this bastard's face in a long time. He had not aged much really, maybe a few flecks of grey along his sideburns but still with the same creepy expression nonetheless, half sanguine and half devilish. Faced with the real Rafael, Kim wondered how she could have almost believed that henchman Marco had been him. This man was much more menacing, even across a computer screen.

Rafael, along with three other men, seemed to be standing in a butcher’s meat storage room. Big hunks of raw meat hung from sharp steel hooks in the ceiling here and there, but not enough to shield a blind-folded and bound Samantha in the background. A cloth gag pulled tightly against her cheeks and hair and she was held down in a kneeling position by two men.

“Sam,” Dae-hyun gasped. Kim spared a look at the young man. His expression was stiff, worry clearly showing through the fierce glare he directed at the video.

 _“Let me introduce you to tonight's main event.”_ Rafael slowly made his way over to Sam, steps languid. The man was unmistakablyin his element. _“As you can see, we have a beautiful little dove here.”_ He reached over and touched Sam's face with two long fingers. She flinched and jerked her body backward.

 _“What do you think I should do to her? What would_ you _like to see first?”_ Rafael continued, looking at the camera again. Kim swore her heart had stopped its frantic beating as she held her breath. Rafael paused as if Kim would take the moment to actually answer him, then smiled. He gestured, and a moment later, the harsh vroom of a chainsaw revving blared through the speakers. Sam squeaked fearfully, visibly tensing at the sound.

Rafael pulled the camera around to the left. The sound was not a chainsaw after all, but a huge, spinning table saw. Specks of old blood stained the wood around it, where chunks of beef had obviously been hewn apart. _“Bring her over here,”_ Rafael ordered his men, who were straining to confine Sam’s flailing.

“NO!” Kim screamed at the laptop, hands clenching at the keyboard futilely.

At this time, both Yong-guk and Derek had just finished their conference, exiting the bedroom door and immediately seeing the group hunched apprehensively around the computer. Kim couldn’t bear to look up at them, so focus was she on Sam’s predicament.

 _“Should I cut her into pieces?”_ Rafael snapped his fingers with the last word. One of the men untied Sam's hands and pulled out one of her arms, extending it a foot above the table saw. Sam yelled in fear, unable to escape.

“Dear god! What a nutcase this guy is,” Zelo murmured. Beside her, Kim could see Dae-hyun had his fists clenched, knuckles white with the force of his anxiety.

At Rafael’s nod, the guy that was holding out Sam's arm began to lower it to the blade. Rafael started to chuckle as he watched Sam struggling increase. Lower and lower. Kim was gasping for breath. She wanted to slam her hands on the laptop, the screen, _anything!_ But what could she do?!

Sam’s arm was an inch away and she was striving for escape for all she was worth and then—

“Aaah!” Sam’s pained cry was accompanied by a sudden bright red spurt as the saw nicked her skin.

“ _Ha ha, okay, okay, that's enough! God, this never gets old,”_ the bastard spoke, amused. His lackeys immediately followed orders, yanking Samantha away from the blade. The poor girl was clearly sobbing beneath the blindfold, and saliva soaked the cloth around her mouth. Her chest heaved as she strove to catch her breath and composure as they dumped her back on the floor.

No sooner had she managed to sit back up did Rafael kneel down right beside her, saying, _“What's next? Oh yes! I do think a beautiful creature like her would look magnificent...,”_ he paused and turned to the camera, “ _...lit up in flame.”_

Kim felt as if her limbs were all numb. Images of Andrea cut into pieces and her mother's body alight rushed back into her mind, but Sam’s shriek jolted her back to the present. In the video, the men were pouring gasoline liberally all over her body. Sam squirmed, turning her face away and coughing as some of the liquid splashed through the gag and into her mouth. Soon, her clothes and hair were drenched from head to toe, and this time the sodden gag drooped enough that she spit it out enough to holler.

 _“ST...STOP! Goddammit all! I’ve had_ enough _!!”_ Sam yelled, in both fear and fury.

“Shut up!” one of the guards ordered, slapping her sternly. He returned the gag to her mouth and pulled it tighter than before.

“Turn it off, Kim. You should not be watching this,” Derek ordered, reaching out a hand to close the laptop. His voice sounded disturbed, but Kim wasn’t sure whether it was directed at Sam or at her, his dear delicate daughter.

“No! Dad! No!” Kim shouted, frantically grasping his hand and hold it fast. _What if Rafael really kills Sam, and I just turned away?_ Kim had made a vow; it wouldn’t be right.

In the video, Rafael was laughing delightedly. _“Oh wow, really? I haven't had this much fun for a while now. You still have some fight left in you? I'm impressed.”_ Rafael squeezed Sam’s cheeks as if she were a naughty child. Kim half-expected him to pat Sam’s head, but he only straightened, brushing his hands off and addressing the camera once more.

“ _This is only the beginning, Kim. What I want is very simple. Bring me the fucking plates or this little dove dies. You know I won't hesitate to pick whichever method of killing her that fancies me. Either way I alluded to just now are very much to my liking.”_ Rafael did threaten in any conventional way—no shaking of fists or snarling of teeth—only speaking with calm, sadistic certainty. Kim felt the tears start. She felt so helpless!

Rafael signaled his men to haul Sam to her feet. Then, he reached over to caress her face once more, pulling her close to him so that they were cheek to cheek, their two faces filling the camera field. The man sniffed her tangled, oily hair, causing Sam to twitch away in revulsion. Rafael had not broken eye contact with the camera the entire time.

“ _Bring the plates to Caesar's Palace in Las Vegas no later than this weekend and be ready for an exchange. Should you fail to yield to my demands, I will not be merciful,”_ Rafael warned, “ _I hope you all enjoyed my short little show. There'll be more to come if you fail to meet me. Bye now!”_ With that Rafael, clicked off the camera and it switched to black.

Disgusted silence reigned in the _Ritz Carlton_ VIP suite.

Wishing to rescue Sam as quickly as possible, Kim turned to Dae-hyun, who was sure to back her up. He had crossed his arms now, with one of his fists up by his mouth. His thumb was locked between his front teeth where he’d bit it until it bled while watching the video. He stilled stared at the blank screen, fury swimming in his eyes.

Looking around, Kim saw that Jong-up had closed his eyes and looked to the side. Zelo was also staring ahead, though his countenance showed more calculation than wrath. Perhaps he was exploring his mind’s database for alternative ways to approach this disastrous situation. Kim sure hoped so. Her mind was still too distraught to think up anything brilliant.

She looked to Yong-guk then, but caught sight of the expression on her father’s face first. She broke the silence and stood up.

“I know what you're going to say, but I'm sorry, Dad. I am going to get Sam back. Please don't stop me,” Kim stated beseechingly. She wasn’t asking for permission, per se, just for lack of interference.

Derek examined his daughter closely. She gazed firmly back at him, unwavering. “Dad, I swear to you. I will bring back Rafael's head. I can do this. Believe in me.”

Derek finally blew out a stressful sigh. “All right, I believe in you. Go. And make sure that bastard pays.” He did not need to mention why. The flash of grief in his eyes reflected her own. Even though her father cared very little for Sam, Kim knew he wanted Mom avenged at least.

Kim smiled triumphantly and quickly looked to Yong-guk, who nodded at her. The laptop was closed and handed back to Zelo. All of the room’s occupants stood up, ready to embark once a plan was hashed out.

“It's going to be a challenge to get to the airport at the moment,” Derek advised. “They have increased the security there for both incoming and outgoing flights. So taking a private jet would be a best option for all of you.” He met each of their eyes.

“That won't be a problem. We have our jets waiting for us, fueled and ready to go from our last arrival, right?” Jong-up stated, gearing himself up by sliding a gun into his back holster.

“No, that's too risky. We used the main airport when we arrived this morning. I'm sure they are now under CIA custody,” Zelo countered, packing his bag and slinging it over one shoulder as he spoke, “Especially now that we are going to Vegas. We'll be on the American mainland, which will make it easier for them to trace us.”

Derek concurred. “Zelo's right. At this time, leaving quietly would be the best option for you. Luckily, when I had to return for the safe house alarm, I parked my jet at the Fernado L Ribas Dominicci, the small airport I like to use for most business trips. It's about fifteen minutes from here. I will take you now, but I cannot come with. The shareholders for the casino in Macau will already need much appeasing and I must speak with them personally soon.”

Kim nodded, already glad he understood her motivations and would support her decision, even if he didn’t agree with it.

Dae-hyun pulled out his cell phone and start dialing. Kim imagined it would be Him-chan's number.

“Okay then,” Yong-guk concluded, “We will be in your care, Mr. Le. To Vegas it is.”

* * *

 

_Meanwhile…_

Agent Hampton disembarked from the sedan with as much grace as he commanded. He was getting on in years, and sometimes his knees bothered him, especially when it had been a restless twenty-four hours.

Now he stood in the mid-morning sun at the entrance to what was the Le’s safe house in Puerto Rico—well, former safe house. He severely doubted Derek Le or his daughter would ever return here. It was compromised and quite ruined at this point.

Agent Casey drew up beside Hampton, letting out a low whistle. “This is not good.”

Hampton threw him a sardonic glance. “You think?” He resisted the urge to run a callous hand through his hair. He was the senior officer here and he had to maintain composure.

“The news is all astir. They have the police department hounded, phones ringing off the hook, families disgruntled or fearful. Some…less dedicated policemen had opted to stay home rather than get involved in what they’ve deduced are mafia quarrels. Obviously, Manuel Gonzalez’s rule had quite an effect on the city, regardless of the fact that he’s dead now.” Casey sighed. “I suppose we could release that particular tidbit to the press. It would ease people’s minds, but fears are hard to eradicate, not to mention habits.”

“What are you trying to say, Casey?”

“Just that we shouldn’t expect too much help from the local authorities. They have enough to clean up at this rate.”

Hampton pondered the situation for a moment, reviewing his resources. Director Haversham had wanted him to extract the undercover agent here in San Juan and use the intelligence gained to capture Rodriguez. However, he had not shown, and yet still managed to damage B.A.P.’s operations. _Damn. Looks like Rodriguez has quite the clever follower working for him,_ Hampton deduced. It was probably someone their database had not known yet.

And now their spy had gone silent—the last contact had been the reveal of the safe house location—which wasn’t uncommon. It was an inherent aspect of undercover work that sometimes depending on who surrounded them and opportunities available, communication could be scarce. Agent Hampton was just uneasy due the plan having been derailed.

 _Ugh, the paperwork alone is going to be a jumbled fiasco,_ Hampton rued. Additionally, Casey had reported on the way over here that Agent Kennedy’s tactlessness in the forest could have been the thing to trigger the attack. The kid had not been that subtle, acting more rashly and eagerly than prudently. Casey assured that he’d already given their junior a lecture that he clearly did not appreciate.

Speaking of the kid, Hampton scanned the area for Kennedy. _There he is._

Kennedy’s tall form was looming over a trio of the local PD, seemingly grilling them for whatever information they could give him. He looked up, feeling Hampton’s gaze and beckoned to him.

Hampton and Casey made their way to him shortly just as he dismissed the men chidingly in Spanish.

“Agent Hampton. Agent Casey,” Kennedy greeted respectively.

“Agent Kennedy, you’ve news?” Hampton prompted.

Kennedy sighed, nearly rolling his eyes in exasperation, but refrained at the last second. He had no qualms about running his hands through his platinum hair, as younger men these days tended to do. Hampton had long ago theorized that they all must have learned how to do so in a “How to Look Cool for the Girls” class in high school or something similar.

“Apparently, Kim Le was here,” Kennedy announced.

“When?” Casey inquired.

“About three in the morning, they said,” Kennedy nodded toward the officers he had been talking to earlier. “She came by with a group of Korean men—B.A.P. no doubt—to survey her home. They made the mistake of confronting her instead of calling for us straight away so by the time the report reached our ears, they’d already left.”

Hampton could discern the frustration on his face easily and decided not to rub in the young man’s err a day ago. He seemed sorry enough, and more than willing to get the show back on the road.

Which meant Hampton had to make some decisions now. “We have to find B.A.P., that much is certain. Whoever attacked their safe house has evidently made contact with them already, because they haven’t retaliated against us, thinking we were the culprits. Given what happened Gonzalez,” here he acknowledged Kennedy’s discovery of the gruesome finds at the hideout with a small nod, “Rodriguez must have sent someone to strike back. This wreckage was it. Derek Le’s men are slain and his base here in Puerto Rico is no more. I’m certain B.A.P. will be headed for Rodriguez. We’ll need to follow them.”

Casey looked to be reviewing his partner’s plan in his head, checking it for feasibility, as he always did.

Kennedy opened his mouth to speak. “What about the money plates? Shouldn’t we keep looking for them here?”

“No.” This, Hampton had already thought about. “Like I said, Derek Le does not have much of a foundation here anymore, and B.A.P. is leaving to pursue Rodriguez. They would not leave the plates here.”

“Right,” Kennedy replied, contemplating, then, “What about your undercover guy? Could we verify with him where B.A.P.’s gone?”

Hampton shook his head. “I have yet to hear from our—“

“ _Señors_!” a voice interjected loudly. One of the local policemen came jogging up to the three CIA agents, huffing. He was a rotund man, obviously more adapted to office work than the field, but Hampton could not say they weren’t thankful for the extra hand.

The man rushed through a jumble of words, not all of which Hampton understood, then gestured for them to follow him to the trees.

“He says they found a body,” Kennedy translated, pale brows furrowed as he began walking.

“I thought we’d already cleared all the dead to the mortuary?” Casey voiced.

“We did,” Hampton confirmed. He recalled giving the order. “Could be one they missed…or a new one from when B.A.P. stopped by.”

The men soon came upon a group of officers clustered around a body on the ground. The metallic scent of blood was substantial in the air, mixed with the unmistakable stink of fecal matter. Hampton instinctively started breathing through his mouth, as years of experience had taught him to do. Agent Kennedy threw a fist up under his nose to block out the pungent smell.

Sure enough, the body they came upon had had its abdominal cavity shredded, intestines leaking all over the place, flies already feasting at its remains.

“Well,” Agent Kennedy commented, “Someone was sure angry.”

Casey gave him an unamused look.

“What?” Kennedy returned, shrugging. “The tattoos make him one of the mafia, most likely, though if one of B.A.P. murdered him, he must have been a lackey on Rodriguez’s side,” the young man deduced.

Hampton nodded, “Most likely. He must’ve carried out the attack. We would have been notified if Rodriguez had set foot in Puerto Rico.”

“Who do you think he—“ Agent Casey was cut off again by shouts not far off, to the side of the property this time.

“Another body?” Kennedy asked, hearing the calls of discovery. He jogged on ahead of Hampton and Casey, in a hurry to escape the fetid odor of body number one.

Body number two turned out to be lying not in a clearing like the other one, but amongst blood-stained bushes. His face was extremely pale, the blood having drained out of it from a neck wound. The boy had been young and strong, in his vital twenties, from what Hampton saw.

“Damn,” he muttered. He’d been in this job too long. Whenever he saw young deaths, it echoed in his mind, and it got harder and harder to return to his children after each mission with such worries for their own future. Haversham was right; he could probably switch to a desk job soon, good physical condition or not.

“You know him? Was this your agent? Because I gotta say, I’d been way disappointed that the CIA are recruiting boys green around the ears and looking like he barely put up a fi—“ Kennedy began snarkily.

“He wasn’t,” Hampton snapped, annoyed at the younger agents lack of tact, “He’s a civilian—an unfortunate one at that, for getting mixed up in all this, however it was that he got here. Have some more respect, kid. From the looks of him, at least he did put up a fight.”

Kennedy had the grace to look down, properly chastised, though he looked up again a second later.

“So now what?”

“Now? We head back to the department.” Hampton turned to head back towards the car, setting a quick pace. Casey and Kennedy followed. “Let us hope there are no more bodies here. But I think we’ve seen what needs be seen. I want to see if my agent’s left any more messages for me. Agent Kennedy, I need you to check on our border security at the air- and seaports. Agent Casey, please contact Director Haversham with a preliminary report and arrange for our transportation back stateside. We’ve overstayed our welcome in San Juan, I think.”

* * *

Him-chan grimaced as he ruffled the front of his shirt, creating airflow for his sweaty skin. Nearly ten in the morning, and already the sun’s heat—trapped by the humid canopy of the forest—was becoming bothersome.

Beside him, Young-jae drew breath to complain, “Are they here yet? Who’s driving? I bet it’s Dae-hyun, taking his sweet time so that I’ll melt in this forest.”

“Hush, Young-jae,” Him-chan reprimanded mildly, “The CIA are still nearby, and we don’t want them to know we’ve eavesdropped.”

“Sorry, Hyung,” Young-jae apologized, voice dropped down to an appropriate whisper. Him-chan was inclined to give him vocal approval of his following orders, but what he’d learned from their stake-out still worried him.

Hector had not been the spy. _Which only makes things more complicated…_ Him-chan sighed. He really, really wish the kid had been. Instead, now he and Yong-guk had to do some guesswork, and it wouldn’t be easy.

Him-chan peered again at Young-jae.

“So…while we’re waiting…mind telling me about your trip to Chicago, Young-jae?” Him-chan asked, adopting a relaxed air, leaning back on a tall tree.

Young-jae gave him a look, as if to question his reasoning, “Are you sure we should be making small talk? I thought you told me to hush?”

“As long as we keep our voices down and our eyes open, it should be fine.”

“Oh,” Young-jae blinked, “Well, in that case, yeah, Chicago was fuckin’ cold, and I’m never going there in the winter again,” he stated bluntly.

Him-chan resisted the urge to smile. The response was so typically Young-jae.

“And?”

“And what?” Young-jae shrugged. “The godforsaken snow delayed us, like, for-freakin-ever and I swear, if another snot-nosed toddler sneezed on me, I was going to drop him out the emergency exit! There was one kid who kept trying to play with my earring! Geez. Americans, you know, even their kids are rude.”

Him-chan raised an eyebrow at Young-jae’s rant. He truly couldn’t tell if the younger man was going off on a tangent purposefully or not.

“Some would say you’re pretty rude, too,” Him-chan pointed out.

Young-jae gave him a snarky grin, “Ah, but that’s my job.”

 _Uh huh…but is your job what we think it is?_ Him-chan thought. None of this felt right, this digging for incriminating information from one of his fellow B.A.P. members.

Him-chan could remember when Young-jae first joined them. He had been the last brought in by T.S., and nearly sixteen by the time he arrived, but still the rambunctious person as he was now. Him-chan could easily recall how he bickered with Dae-hyun and Yong-guk at first, how he pranked Zelo’s computer projects, and how he challenged Jong-up every single Tae-Kwon-Do class, despite the fact Jong-up always won. Him-chan himself mentored Young-jae in many fights. Okay, so Young-jae ended up fighting in an entirely miss-mash style all of his own in spite of Him-chan’s efforts, but the point is…Him-chan knew Young-jae fairly well.

At least, he hoped he did.

“So, how did your meeting with our contacts go?” Him-chan redirected Young-jae’s train of thought.

“Well, we were hella late. And in the end, the CIA somehow got wind of us, as I’m sure Jong-up told you, so we had to separate, since they weren’t looking for just one of us,” Young-jae answered readily.

“What’d you do during that time to shake them?”

“Ya’ want a recount of the entire time there or something, hyung? Um, well, we spent so much fuckin’ time stuck in snowy traffic—do you know how much taxi drivers honk their horns? It’s headache-inducing, let me tell you—and Jong-up, you know, he’s not really a great talker, and I was _so_ bored.” Young-jae laid down on the ground dramatically to emphasize his feelings, disregarding the dirt. “Hey, the ground’s not so bad, hyung. Nice and cool.”

“No thanks,” Him-chan said, “I’m keeping an eye out for our ride anyhow. Back to Chicago. Jong-up mentioned that he had no idea where you went1.”

Here was the real kicker. Him-chan tried to watch Young-jae’s reaction as subtly as he could, alert for any tell tales signs of prevarication.

The younger man frowned, looking into the trees as he reviewed his memories. He pursed his lips. “Oh, well, Jong-up, like I said, was being super boring, and distracted by the simplest things—you know how he is when he’s not actually in his fighting-machine-mode—so I told him to get some rest while I went out.”

“Out where? I thought you hated the cold,” Him-chan needled carefully, making the question teasing.

“Um, well…” Yong-guk looked down. Him-chan withheld himself from leaning forwards to scrutinize up close. Finally Young-jae met his eyes, a sheepish expression pulling at his mouth and nose. “You can’t tell Dae-hyun, okay?”

“Tell him what exactly?” Him-chan asked archly.

“Well…” Young-jae sighed, “Fine! Fine! Yeah, I hate the cold. I mean, h-a-t-e, _hate_ it. So I went to…one of those spa thingies.” At Him-chan’s surprised expressions, Young-jae sat up and went on hurriedly, “Look, they have really nice hot tubs and shit, and Dae-hyun’s always going on about how it helps to look your best to attract the girls, and blah blah blah. Did you know he gets manicures? He does! I thought it was all way too girly, but…I tried it and it’s kinda…relaxing.”

Him-chan bit the inside of his cheek hard in order to not laugh. As it was, he crossed his arms loosely over his chest trying to maintain a properly understanding appearance.

Young-jae narrowed his eyes at him. “ _Don’t tell him!_ He’ll be all ‘I told you so,’ and besides the main reason—the _main_ reason—I even went there in the first place was for the hot tub. You know, ‘cause it was so fuckin’ cold in fuckin’ Chicago.” With that, Young-jae resumed his watch over the road.

“I hear ya,” Him-chan agreed accommodatingly.

It took only another few minutes before Dae-hyun pulled up in a nondescript civilian car (which he probably stole so that the CIA wouldn’t suspect it if it was seen near the safe house) and stuck his head out the window, calling for them.

Young-jae jumped up eagerly and bounded towards Dae-hyun, demanding explanations for his lateness—even though he wasn’t actually late at all.

Him-chan followed more sedately, watching Young-jae as he went. Young-jae’s voice and answers all appeared quite honest and distinctively Young-jae, as far as Him-chan could tell.

If he was the spy, of course he could have had that story ready ahead of time. Him-chan resisted the desire to groan. He wanted an aspirin for all this double analyzing. When he met up again with Yong-guk, they really needed to figure out what to do about this problem.

Because either Young-jae was telling the truth just now…or he was a very, very dangerous liar.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for providing the wrong website in the past author's notes. The correct link, should you want to see it in different formatting, or would like to see the movie poster one of us created, or simply read amusing reviews is as follows: 
> 
> http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/546835/what-it-takes-bangyongguk-mafia-you-originalcharacter-zelo-himchan-bap


	35. Las Vegas Trippin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BAP is going stateside. Course, the CIA are right behind them. What exactly awaits them in Vegas? Not what they were expecting, at least, not at first.

* * *

_Las Vegas, Nevada, United States of America_

B.A.P., along with Kim, arrived at McCarran International Airport around 6:30 p.m. the same day of Rafael’s terrifying video message. Following Derek's instructions, their departure and arrival had been both subtle and quiet. Leaving San Juan in a rush hopefully escaped any established CIA scrutiny, given their last known location was the safe house.

Regardless of this fact, Dae-hyun was on edge. He had not slept a wink during the non-stop flight, his mind replaying the images of Sam being tortured over and over again like a masochistic merry-go-round. He furrowed his eyebrows and buried his face into his hands. _This isn’t helping,_ Dae-hyun sighed to himself. So, he punched the seat in front of him, making its occupant jerk forward abruptly.

There was some undignified spluttering, then Young-jae wheeled around at him with a fierce glare. “What the hell, dude?” he growled, “I was fuckin’ sleeping!”

Dae-hyun ignored him sullenly, and leaned back into his seat. Young-jae growled some more, but seeing Dae-hyun lost in the depths of troubled thoughts, shot his friend a scowl, then resumed his seat and tried again to fall asleep. Good thing, too, in Dae-hyun’s opinion, because he really was in no mood to talk. _Rafael had better not a lay a single finger on Sam,_ he thought, _He may be safe at the moment, but the second Sam is safely back with me—us—whatever…_ Dae-hyun called up a mental image of Rafael’s leering face, _I’ll tear him to pieces._

There was transportation waiting for them upon their arrival, courtesy of Derek Le, owner of the Golden Dream Casino Resort in Las Vegas, as informed by the sharply dressed man sent to pick them up. Dae-hyun peered at the luxury black shuttle van parked in front of him in awe, though of course, he held a neutral expression on his face. As he was contemplating what the black-out windows shielded, Kim simply strode past him and climbed aboard, like a stern-faced queen amidst her entourage.

The others followed after that, with Dae-hyun climbing in last. The interior of the full van glowed all white, even the posh, leather seats. Soft, suede cushions accented the spacey vehicle, lit by small overhead LEDs, providing comfort for at least twelve passengers. Dae-hyun glanced forward into the first row where Kim, Him-chan, and Yong-guk sat.

“You and your father have another Golden Dream Casino in Las Vegas?” he asked, face turned to the window as he watched the Mandalay Bay pass, followed by the Luxor and its front entrance obelisk and sphinx. He had been inside the Luxor once, and though the pyramid was a neat architectural addition to The Strip—sleek and black and a great directional guide at night with its forty billion candlepower sky beam—Dae-hyun preferred other casinos.

“You mean you never knew?” Kim returned his question with another question. Her tone indicated she was hurt by Dae-hyun’s ignorance.

Dae-hyun tensed and stammered. “Uh...er, no? Was I supposed to?” He pressed back in his seat, fearful of Kim’s emotional balance at the moment.

“It’s one of the most famous casinos in Las Vegas! People from all over the world come here just to stay in my father’s resort. Its huge success was why he had to open another one in Macau with its French title,” Kim elaborated grandly. She pinned him with a glare. “And you dare to say that you haven't heard about it?”

 _Geez, calm down. Like I gamble enough to know about what famous casinos out there are doing well or not,_ Dae-hyun thought to himself. Then he heard Kim snort once in amusement. He slowly realized that he was being made fun of and huffed, kicking the back of her seat lightly. “Is it really that famous? I never heard T.S. talk about it. He prefers the MGM Grand,” he protested.

Kim shrugged. “Yeah, Dad goes on and on about the MGM as one of his biggest competitors right now. But success is success, I say.”

Dae-hyun couldn't stop a slight smile from appearing at the corner of his mouth. He knew that Kim was probably pretending to overreact on purpose to lighten up everyone's mood, including her own. Dae-hyun was aware that both she and he have been overwhelmed and tense the entire trip from San Juan to Vegas, refusing to talk much to anyone. All because of Rafael's video clip. Of the group now in Sin City, Kim and Dae-hyun claimed the spots for most anxious to get things done.

“So far, who's dominating the competition?” Yong-guk asked, joining the conversation.

“Is it the MGM? Is that why your dad changed the casino's name into its French translation and reopened in MaCau?” Him-chan teased.

“Okay, you've just crossed the line,” Kim warned with smile as their shuttle arrived at Golden Dream Casino and Resort.

To their surprise a huge, boisterous crowd was pressed against the lobby entrance, forming two lines from the van to the gilded door. There was nowhere for the shuttle to drop off B.A.P discreetly. Kim turned around to face Dae-hyun and confidently announced, “There you see? _Everyone_ wants to have a taste of the Le Family casino and resort.”

“Yeah, though it seems most of your guests are all...young teenaged girls,” Him-chan replied peering out the window.

“What...?” Kim leaned over both Him-chan and Yong-guk to see for herself.

“What’s going on, Kim? Are you holding some sort of a youth convention? Oh, or maybe you thought you could bribe us by giving us all first pick of these lovely American ladies?” Yong-guk mused. Kim resumed her seat, elbowing Yong-guk roughly in retaliation as she went, and pulled out her phone, most likely to contact the casino manager.

Dae-hyun noticed some of the girls were clutching or waving small posters excitedly—pictures of young, handsome Asian males. “Are you expecting celebrities here, Kim?” Kim looked up at him upon hearing the question, a realization in her brown eyes. Just as she was about to speak, though, the van came to a stop at the curb.

Screaming girls suddenly slapped both their hands and faces against the shuttle's tinted windows, striving for a glimpse inside. Their actions startled Zelo and he shifted himself away from the window warily, as if it might just crack under teenaged fanaticism. “Why are they smoothering our van right now?” he managed to squeak, “And why do their eyes look so big?”

“Ohmygaw! Ohmygaw! Is that them?”

“Ohmygaw I see them!”

“They’re so hot!!!”

“Aah! Someone catch me, my ovaries are gonna explode!”

The girls screamed in high-pitched wails, all scrambling to get to the front of the crowd. One girl hurriedly smeared hot pink lipstick on, and kissed the side window, leaving an imprint on the glass. Dae-hyun had to admit, in all his years of learning how to seduce the female gender, the most dangerous target to attempt was the teenaged girl; who knew what sort of crazy shit they were willing to do to earn affection.

“...What? Who? Are they talking about us?” Young-jae questioned, and Dae-hyun could detect a slight tremor of panic underneath his words, “Are we famous in America, Hyung?”

“Miss Le, there is no way I can get you to the entrance with these girls crowding all over the area,” the driver announced.

“That's all right. We can get off here and walk just fine,” Kim replied as she opened the door and stepped out first.

“OH MY GAWD!!! I can't believe it! It's their manager!” The girls hollered the moment Kim got off the vehicle.

“What?” Kim breathed, confused, as Yong-guk and Him-chan followed her out. Dae-hyun thought this was a bad idea, but what could he do? Bracing himself, he disembarked. Unfortunately, at that moment, not bothering to wait for the rest of the group to emerge, the horde of girls rushed towards them, pushing them backward against the van.

“OH GAWD! OH GAWD! It's them! It's them! It's P.A.B!! I can't believe I'm touching Hae-dyun and Yong-nam in the flesh!” The crazy fan girls shrieked, crowding them all, starry-eyed and flushed.

“Touching who? Why does that second name sound so familiar?” Yong-guk turned to asked Him-chan uncertainly.

“I'm guessing that's you and Dae-hyun right now?” Him-chan surmised, trying to shrug while simultaneously keep groping hands from straying towards anything he’d prefer remain private.

“Wha…What? What? I'm... HEY! Watch where you're touching!” Kim yelled angrily. Dae-hyun could see her struggling to keep her balance amid screaming fan girls. “Oh god!” she yelped before tripping over the curb, the tall heel of her shoe snapping with a crack.

“This is nuts! Do something, someone!” Dae-hyun threw his comment back into the van’s interior, hoping one of the three guys left inside would think of something.

Someone in front of him gasped dramatically, “O-m-g his English is amaziiiiiing!”

Dae-hyun scrunched his face at the girls in confusion. _My English is amazing? What does that mean? Are they saying I'm not supposed to know how to speak English?_ Surely he was popular with women, but he did not remember making a name of himself amongst obsessive teenage girls...at least, not intentionally. Not with the time he had anyway.

Kim finally yanked out her cell phone and started yelling at it, “I need security down here NOW!” and not five seconds later, Dae-hyun spied a team of security guards shoving their way through the ocean of crazy fan girls.

“Okay, Okay. Move along! Make way now,” the largest security guard bellowed in a deep baritone while bodily shoving girls aside. His team followed suit, and finally—thank the stars above—a clear path was created for them. Gathering herself and her shoe’s broken heel, Kim hurried down the pathway, glaring at the girls as she passed them. Yong-guk and Him-chan hustled her along to the main door lest she suddenly have the urge to stop and chastise some poor soul. Dae-hyun neatly avoided outstretched arms and hands as he followed after them.

He could hear the security guards yelling further orders behind him as they escorted the other B.A.P members off the shuttle. “Okay, girls. Let them through. Let them through. It's a false alarm!” But, of course, the girls ignored that statement and continued to push forward.

 _And they thought I didn't speak English well? They don't seem to even understand that guard's statement._ Dae-hyun huffed as his fellow B.A.P. members finally arrived safely into the hotel lobby. The moment Young-jae brought up the end of the line, the hotel staff and security guards sealed the doors, then stood attentively in front of them, barring further entrance for the time being. Dae-hyun exhaled with relief and resolutely turned from the glass where the girls were still clamoring for attention. Nearby, a man with a manager badge pinned to his lapel was addressing Kim.

“Uh...welcome Miss Le. I take that you did not receive my email?” The manager clasped his hands together nervously.

“Hey, Steve,” Kim greeted, her voice level, though she still looked slightly frazzled, “Actually, I just read it the moment we arrived.”

“What is going on here? Who are those crazy girls exactly?” Him-chan questioned immediately after Kim had finished speaking. Kim turned to him and showed him the email in question on her phone.

“Well...it seems some big shot Korean Track Records Company chose our hotel for their boy band concert here in Las Vegas,” Kim conveyed to the group aloud.

Dae-hyun dared to peek at the crazy fan girls once more. Yep, they were still there, pressing themselves against at the glass windows, the girls in the back jumping up and down in order to see better. “Who is the boy band? Big Bang? Super Junior? It's gotta be one of them, considering how big their fan bases are,” he guessed.

Kim scrolled through her email and answered with a shrug, “Some group called P.A.B.”

There was a contemplative beat of silence.

“...never heard of 'em.” Jong-Up said.

“Wait, what they called?” Yong-guk questioned, narrowing his eyes.

“P.A.B. That what it says here.” Kim pointed at her phone and shoved it over to him.

Yong-guk’s eyebrows shot up upon confirming the information, looking quite indignant. “Excuse me? Are they mocking us right now? Switching the letters around like that? How unoriginal,” Yong-guk complained.

“Yeah, what kind of name is 'P.A.B.' anyways? Sound ripped off,” Young-jae commented. Both Dae-hyun and Yong-guk shot Young-jae a disbelieving look. Him-chan just closed his eyes and shook his head, exasperated.

“Well, whoever they are, it seems that you guys resemble them,” Kim concluded, “Well, at least their fans think so anyways.” Unnecessarily, she pointed at the screaming girls once more. Everyone swiveled to view the commotion one last time. They must have somehow looked suave doing so because a collective squeal of ecstasy went through the crowd. One girl fainted.

The group just stared. Dae-hyun could swear Zelo was developing a tic at their behavior by now, and he thought he heard the youngest member mutter something like, “Rabid bunch of female hormones,” or something similar, so it quite a respite to hear Steve the Manager speak up.

“Anyhow…. Let me show you to your rooms. Dinner will be delivered to you right after you all have settled in. Just let me know whatever preferences you require. Right this way, gentlemen,” Steve turned to Kim politely, “and my lady.”

They all followed him gratefully.

* * *

 

The room prepared turned out to be the presidential suit located on the casino’s top floor, fully equipped with a dining room, a vast living room, and four ensuite bedrooms. While Zelo gravitated to the 70-inch HD flat screen television, Him-chan headed for the double doors that led to a wraparound balcony. Beyond the railing sprawled a scenic view of The Strip and southern Las Vegas. Tiny moving people far below roamed the streets, some of them stopped by Treasure Island to await the free pirate ship show.

Kim’s voice pulled his observations back into the hotel room. “Feel free to pick whatever rooms you like. Let me know when you’re all settled in and we can have dinner over at my room,” she announced.

“You're not staying with us, Miss Le?” Him-chan tried teasingly.

“No,” Kim denied, though she gave a slightly rueful glance at Him-chan as she said so, “Steve booked a separate room me. It's right next door.” Kim whirled from the room, adding over her shoulder, “It's my dad's order.”

Him-chan made an effort to keep the disappointment off his face, reminding himself that they were here for business. He’d thought about spending time with Kim exploring Vegas, but it seemed she would be in no mood for sightseeing or shopping. Him-chan couldn’t blame her.

Shaking his head, he made his way back to the balcony. A cold evening breeze greeted stared down again at the bright city lights, ruled over all by the Luxor’s beam. It was undoubtedly beautiful, and for a moment longer, Him-chan allowed himself to imagine what it would have been like, were this simply a vacation between him and Kim, full of long walks and fancy restaurants, attending Cirque du Soleil shows. Maybe even a concert….

“You know, I’ve thought about coming here and opening a casino someday?” Yong-guk voiced behind him.

Him-chan yanked his brain from his daydreams and sighed. “Maybe when all of this is over, we can get a head start on that,” he threw Yong-guk a wry smile, “though I’d place bets on whether you’d find entrepreneurship extremely after three months.”

Yong-guk frowned at his friend, but ultimately shrugged. “So what did you find out at the safe house?” he changed the subject instead.

Him-chan heaved another sigh; he really needed a nap. “About an hour after you guys left, the police arrived. I saw three men dressed in casual jeans and pressed white shirts, completely different from the San Juan's police uniform. Given the fact that those policemen were reporting to them, I’d bed the men were CIA agents.”

“You’ve said ‘I’d bet’ several times already,” Yong-guk noted.

“We’re in Vegas, so sue me.”

“Hmph. So, anyways, they finally show their faces, those CIA dogs,” Yong-guk scoffed, “Go on.”

Him-chan jumped straight to the point, knowing what Yong-guk wanted to know most. “Hector wasn't the undercover agent. The CIA happened upon the body and denied knowing his identity.” He watched for slight changes in Yong-guk's expression. His leader seemed somewhat disappointed—the exact feeling Him-chan had felt when he heard them declare Hector as just a civilian. “And they're getting ready to return to the States now, I believe. Their spy may have given them a hint towards the next step,” Him-chan finished.

“Alright,” Yong-guk uncrossed his arms and faced Him-chan, “What about Young-jae? What did you find out from him?”

Pleased, but unsurprised that Yong-guk had figured out why he’d asked Young-jae to stake out with him, Him-chan opened his mouth to answer, “I think that--”

Kim’s abrupt arrival cut him off. She threw open the balcony door, eyes full of concern. “I got another email from Rafael.” She thrust out the phone Marco had given her to communicate with Rafael. Yong-guk grabbed it to read the email himself. Him-chan leaned over his shoulder to see the screen.

_So I see that you've arrived safely in Vegas. That's very good. Tomorrow, there will be a private party being held at Caesar's Palace and you are invited. Attached to this email is an exclusive VIP invitation for you, Miss Le, so do come alone. You need to present a printed version when you arrive at the hotel tomorrow. It starts at 7:00 pm tomorrow night. Please don't be late._

_Love, Rafael._

_P.S. I almost forgot the most important part of the email: please bring the plates with you and we can do the exchange then. Otherwise, your friend’s night may not be as fun as mine will be._

Him-chan felt his hands clench at the closing “Love, Rafael,” and he clamped down on the urge to reach out and encircle Kim in his arms in order to protect her from the psychopath’s twisted games. He turned to her, trying to catch her eyes reassuringly, but she had her gaze glued to the phone, which Yong-guk had handed back to her.

“I'll go to see what he wants,” Kim stated decisively, “Caesar's Palace is a very public place so I doubt that he could do anything harmful.”

Him-chan immediately had to argue, “It’s still a private party, Kim. Who knows who’s been invited? It’s still extremely risky.”

“Agreed,” Yong-guk said, and Him-chan looked over to him gratefully for a second before Yong-guk went on, “however, in this case, I do know whose party he’s referring to. Michael Bay is in town, and I believe he’s celebrating his recent movie production, starring his new girlfriend.”

“Bay? That asshole with all the movies that can’t exist without explosions? How’d he get a girlfriend?” Young-jae interrupted, as he joined the three of them on the balcony. The rest of B.A.P. followed him outside. Him-chan could see Yong-guk’s posture tense ever so slightly as he turned to Young-jae, a new level of scrutiny now placed on their junior friend, though he chose to remain silent for now.

“He’s obscenely rich, if I recall correctly,” Dae-hyun answered Young-jae in an obvious voice.

“Oh, so it’s like buying a car?” Jong-up asked. The other two both frowned at the taller young man in confusion at his seeming non-sequitur.

Him-chan just snorted breathily, “Sort of like that, Jong-up. Don’t worry about it.”

Zelo spoke up then, sounding annoyed, “What I want to know is the logical reasoning behind choosing Caesar's Palace for a hostage exchange. Why put himself at a disadvantage?”

Him-chan looked over to B.A.P.’s youngest member, who functioned as their tech wiz and rational brain. Zelo prided himself on his eidetic memory and utilizing it to see patterns and plans, which helped him plan counterattacks the moment Yong-guk’s orders were issued. Faced with Rafael—whose mental health was unquestionably sadistic—and his convoluted thoughts, Zelo was clearly having trouble discerning the guy’s motivations.

“It's alright Zelo, you don't have to kill yourself over such trivial matters. We have until tomorrow night to execute a well-thought plan.” Yong-guk patted Zelo's shoulders.

“At this stage of the game we must be extremely cautious. Especially when we don't know what Rafael is really planning, so let’s think it through,” Him-chan added, “To start off, as you said, this location makes it the a poor choice to conduct any kind of illegal transaction. Not to mention the exposure to U.S. Authorities now that we are here on their mainland. The C.I.A. will definitely be notified the moment something goes wrong.”

Him-chan definitely did not like the odds piled against them. Most of their missions dealt with others of the same moral caliber, that is, little to none. They were mafia, or at the very least, mafia associates. There was an inherent code of power and loyalty implied whenever one mafia lord did business with another. Having the CIA one step behind B.A.P. was a new addition to the planning; they’ve never been this close to getting caught, and when the chance of being locked up in maximum security loomed, mafia members tended to either double cross or sell out the other.

No, Him-chan did not like this one bit.

“Or it could be something opposite, Hyung,” Dae-hyun voiced his thoughts, “People at the party are bound to be too preoccupied with their own activities to notice anything suspcious. It's a casino. In Vegas. Party-goers will be there to gamble, get drunk, and have a good time. Bad things happened here nearly every minute in a day. The police might not have enough time to tend to each one.”

“But it’s a high profile birthday bash. There’s bound to be higher security as well,” Zelo contradicted.

Yong-guk shook his head in answer, “Yes, but more discrete, I think. Michael Bay likes to guarantee his guests’ privacy. His guards will most likely not be actively roaming the main area. Rafael is counting on that, no doubt. It is a type of privacy in that way—meeting in the middle of a crowd.”

There was a brief pause wherein every one pondered the legitimacy of that scenario. Kim was frowning as she listened, but did not look any less determined.

“What I don't get is how come the U.S. was not aware that Carlos has been hiding here, in America, all this fuckin’ time?” Young-Jae scowled, “There has got to be some vital information that’s being left out here.”

 _Yes, why indeed Young-jae? Are you disappointed that you could've finished the job much sooner if you knew he was here?_ Him-chan glanced at the young man sideways. He seemed bothered, his face scrunched up in the usual way it was when something puzzled him. _But what sort of tell am I looking for? How do I know when he’s given up something he shouldn’t? It’s Young-jae for god’s sake! He’s the definition of an open book! …Isn’t he?_ Frustrated, Him-chan looked over to meet Yong-guk’s eyes just as Yong-guk was also looking to him significantly. They shared a glance that said they needed to discuss these further suspicions.

“The guy had a procedure done, remember, to hide his identity,” Zelo reminded Young-jae, “Facial reconstruction makes it difficult for the police to ID the guy.”

“Sly son-of-a-bitch,” Young-jae returned, shaking his head and looking vaguely ill at the thought of plastic surgery.

“Okay, let's focus on how to get Kim to the party and out again safely without having B.A.P.’s direct involvement,” Yong-guk stated to redirect the conversation.

Him-chan thought about objecting to Kim’s attending alone one more time, just because his gut was squirming uncomfortably, but at that moment, Steve rapped on the door to announce that their dinner had been served. The group relocated for a much needed meal, intent—Him-chan was sure—on resuming their discussion once they all had food in their stomachs again.

* * *

 

Kim sighed as she sat back down. A heavy headache had settled onto either side of her head as they had talked and planned and counter-planned. After the main course of chicken and assorted vegetables—most of which she couldn’t even recall the taste of—she had excused herself to use the washroom. Unfortunately, neither relieving her bladder nor staring in the mirror eased the pounding in her temples.

She grabbed the cold glass of water that had been refilled while she was gone and drank it all down in one gulp. Sitting opposite of her, Zelo had brought out his laptop and was speed typing while eating his dessert at the same time—a small bowl of green tea ice cream.

“Let's see here. This party is particularly private. It's being held by Hollywood producer Michael Bay in celebration of his up-coming movie, just as Yong-guk said,” Zelo relayed, sucking on a spoon. The action should have made him look childish, but only deepened his air of scholastic techie. Kim seriously could not believe how fast Zelo grew up sometimes.

“Can you hack into the hotel's database and download the guests list?” Him-chan asked, sipping on his steaming cup of _yuja cha_ tea.

“Yezzir!” Zelo answered, followed by more typing.

Yong-guk picked up his orange with twist of the wrist, drawing Kim’s attention, as well as the rest of the group. He started peeling it as he spoke, “Considering the possibility of this being a trap, I don't think _all_ of us should be going to the party.” Yong-guk stated, pausing to set the discarded peels onto a ceramic plate, “We should divide into two groups. One will be accompanying Kim to the party, and the other will stay back, ready for possible counter attacks if necessary.

“Rodriguez may not show his face at the party, regardless of what he told you, Kim. Which is why our second team must stay put and act as surveillance. They can easily follow Rafael and his goons closely if and when they run back to warn Rodriguez of our involvement. Once you get close enough to Rodriguez’s location, act immediately. Now, Jong-Up, Dae-hyun, and I will be escorting Kim to the party.”

“Aw man, c’mon Hyung, I don’t wanna miss out on the fightin’ bits—“

Yong-guk cut Young-jae off with a sharp slash of his hand through the air, a more agitated motion than Kim usually saw him use. She wondered briefly why Yong-guk seemed annoyed with Young-jae. “I only want a three man team to go with Kim. More would be too easily discovered.”

“But Hyung, I fuckin’ suck at surveill—“ Young-jae protested again.

“I said no, Young-jae!” Yong-guk bit out. He did not raise his voice, but rather hissed the words. Young-jae jerked back, surprised at the amount of venom in the command. Kim was a little shocked, too, honestly, but Him-chan beat her to speech.

“Young-jae,” he voiced quietly, voice pitched in a placating way, “Dae-hyun performs better in this kind of setting, you remember.”

Young-jae swiveled to look at his friend at those words, his face softening somewhat. Kim didn’t know what could have passed through his mind until he said, “Oh, right. Sorry, Dae-hyun. I know you’d probably want to be there in case Rafael does bring Sam, huh?”

Kim felt her eyebrows raise. Oh. So apparently Young-jae knew of Dae-hyun and Sam’s…activities, and was being understanding. That was…rather sweet of him. Maybe. Or weird. Was it weird? _Ugh. One mystery at a time,_ Kim told her brain, wishing her headache would subside.

Meanwhile, Yong-guk moved on, “Him-chan, you’ll run the surveillance team along with Zelo. Young-jae can simply guard you, if he thinks he can’t contribute,” Yong-guk instructed. Kim could immediately tell that Him-chan was not pleased, since he would rather go to protect Kim in person. However, ever level-headed, he only nodded, understanding his position fully well. As B.A.P.'s second in command, there was no one else besides Him-chan that Yong-guk trusted enough to lead their second unit.

“You can count on me,” Him-chan replied. “Now. Since only Kim is officially on the guest list, we have to think of alternative ways to get you guys inside the party without being noticed,” he stated, moving on to the next item. Kim had no doubt he’d worry about her more after the plans were made—probably be up all night doing so, in fact.

“There are some guests that will not be coming to the party. We can use their identities. Would that be a good idea?” Zelo suggested as he turned his laptop around, showing everyone the names which were in gray font. Those guests attending had a check mark next to their names and were colored green.

Kim leaned forward to examine the names. Some she recognized as past customers of _Le Yacht._ “Hey, look! I guess you can be Andy Lau, Yong-guk.” She pointed to the grey name.

“No,” came the immediate veto.

“John Cho would be a better idea,” Him-chan voiced then, giving Yong-guk a sly grin.

Yong-guk tensed, disgruntled, “But I look nothing like—“

Him-chan overrode his rebuttal. “Let’s disguise you as him then. That way you could just enter the party as a VIP guest, no problem. And you’d be able to keep a close eye on Kim that way. Interact with her if need be.” Kim nodded. That did make her feel safer.

“As for Dae-hyun and Jong-Up, I can arrange for them to be hired as temporary waiters for the party,” Kim added raising up her phone. “I just need to make a request to the current manager at Caesar's Palace. He owes me a few favors.”

“You mean you tricked the poor guy into owing those ‘favors’,” Yong-guk pointed out, mouth quirking to one side.

“Oh hush, Yong-guk. Carter knew fully well what situation he got himself into when he came seeking my help.” Kim brought up Carter’s name on her contact list as she spoke.

“Carter's the new Caesar's Palace floor manager now? Ah, yes. I remember that mission with him. Fun times. Well not the part when we had to dispose of the old manager though,” Him-chan commented.

“All right then. That settles our plan. I just need to copy the template and make you a fake VIP invitation and you're good to go, Hyung,” Zelo declared. He clapped his hands energetically, then stood, walking to the sofa to grab his back pack. When he returned, he had clutched in one hand the familiar black cases that Kim new contained their handiest gadget: the earpieces. “Let's bring these babies back again,” Zelo announced with a grin.

* * *

 

_Luis Munoz Marin International Airport, San Juan, Puerto Rico._

Hampton sat quietly at a tiny table in the airport café, staring blankly out the large glass window, the only obstacle between him and the country’s suffocating humidity. Well, he’d like to blame the tight feeling in his chest on the climate, but truthfully, it was more the circumstances, of course. He sighed as a Boeing 747 took off into the sky to a city unknown to him.

So far the mission in San Juan had been a failure.

In the end, B.A.P. had managed to escape yet again! If only he could get in touch with his agent again, then maybe he could turn the situation completely around. While it was true that messages from their spy came only sporadically, often with long pauses in between due to the nature of the work, Hampton would absolutely appreciate a message—a _hint—_ right now! Hampton pulled his sunglasses down and laid it on the table right.

Casey chose that same moment to set his paper coffee cup down onto the table as well. His partner sat, took one look at Hampton’s dour face, and said, “Don't be beating yourself too hard. At least we know that our agent is still sticking close to B.A.P. and has not been discovered. We still have the upper hand.”

Hampton twisted his lips into a scowl. “If you wanted to console me, Casey, you should’ve skipped the words and brought me a coffee, too.”

“I did,” Casey nodded at the cup, “That one’s yours. I already drank mine.”

“Oh…thanks,” Hampton murmured sheepishly. He reached out and snatched up the glorious source of caffeine, all while Casey studied him with knowing eyes.

“You’re usually not so out of it that you’d think I could forget your favorite beverage, Hampton. We’ve had failed missions before, you know,” Casey finally ventured, “And I don’t think you’d be concerned about looking bad in front of Kennedy.”

Hampton shook his head, “No. It’s not that. I just haven’t received further communication from...” Hampton was cut off by the vibrating of his cell phone. He pulled it out of his pants pocket and stared at the unknown number. Narrowing his eyes, he contemplated letting it ring to his voicemail, but his thumb beat him to the button, jabbing it. He held it to his right ear. “Hello...?”

“ _Michael,_ ” The voice on the line sounded. Hampton's eyes widened as he stood up and leaned forward against the table in recognition. He opened his mouth to speak but got cut off again. _“Don't say anything. Just listen carefully. My current situation is being too closely monitored to allow me frequent contact with you so this will be our last communication. B.A.P., along with Rodriguez and Rafael are in Las Vegas at this moment, but so are the F.B.I., I’ve found out. Now, I'm not ready to hand our case over to the Feds this late in the game. We need to act quickly. I need a team sent to Caesar's Palace as soon as possible; however, tell them to do nothing. Surveillance only. I will take care of the rest once I have all of them gathered in one definite spot. Don't attempt to call this number again because I will dispose of this phone. We'll see each other once my mission is complete.”_

The call clicked to an empty dial tone. Hampton lowered his phone and met Casey’s questioning gaze.

“So?” Casey prompted. In answer, Hampton grabbed his jacket and headed towards their terminal, gulping down the rest of his coffee while his mind jumped from one plan to another. Casey kept even by his side.

“Those dirty federal rats,” Hampton muttered.

“The F.B.I.? On our case?” Casey voiced, then in a tone of realization, “Wait, you mean…”

Hampton nodded briskly, “They're in Las Vegas now. All of them. Rodriguez and Rafael, too. Get everyone ready. We leave for Nevada now!” Then he dialed the Langley number. His agent was going to get the requested team in place as soon as possible.

As the pair of them neared the gate, Casey signaled to their team, shouting orders for departure. Hampton saw Kennedy hurriedly down his own cup of coffee, tossing it in a trash bin as he jogged up to Hampton. Kennedy was a smart kid. He’d figure out that their new destination clearly meant they’d gotten some kind of lead.

“How the hell did we not know Rodriguez has been hiding in our homeland all this time?” Eli blurted, frustration snapping at the end of his sentence.

“You can ask the F.B.I. when we see ‘em,” Hampton responded.

“The F.B.I.?” Hampton was being to wonder if there was an echo in this airport or something. First Casey, now Kennedy.

“Yes, them.”

Kennedy frowned, “Letting the F.B.I. interfere with our affairs is not on the agenda,” he finally stated neutrally. Well, at least, the level of his voice tried to convey it that way. Hampton could tell Kennedy—hot-headed as he tended to be at times—did not want the F.B.I. aboard as a matter of pride.

“We still have the upper hand, and the longevity of the case. And as long as _my_ agent stays close to B.A.P.—which won’t be a problem—the F.B.I. will have to follow our lead,” Hampton stated confidently.

“You really have a lot of faith in this guy, don't you?” Eli peered at him doubtfully, “Is he really that good?”

Hampton just turned and smirked at him once, then strode onwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now you, dear AO3 readers, are caught up to our postings on asianfanfics.com, which, unfortunately, means I must stop my posting binge right here. (Please don't be angry!) Look for a weekly or so update. The end is nigh!!!
> 
> ANOTHER DISCLAIMER for good measure: We do not own any recognizable characters or organizations in this story. We are not making any monetary profit either. The members names of B.A.P. are only borrowed here to inspire our (and hopefully, your) imaginations. Any resemblance to the actual B.A.P. is coincidental, except in regards to Kang Ji Won’s, Kim Ki Bum’s, and the MV’s director’s conceptual ideas for the One Shot.


	36. Benevolent and Malevolent Gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rafael shows just how in-control of the situation he is, though there's a wrench in his plans. Kim, on the other hand....

* * *

_Las Vegas, Nevada, USA: Unknown motel_

Rafael whistled a random tune that sounded vaguely like “Stayin’ Alive” as he zipped his pants and exited the restroom. The moderately priced motel room he’d rented sat north of the Strip, far enough from the colorful enticements of the main streets that tourists rarely ventured there. Sure, there were locals, but most were homeless degenerates, with whom he could count on to ignore him. For whatever reason, it was typically they who could see him for the predator he was and exhibit proper wariness. All in all, the area was a good spot for him and his henchmen, away from the meddlesome metro police.

Switching to another song, Rafael cut off abruptly at the doorway to his room.

His boss Carlos Rodriguez sat in the armchair next to the window, one hand tapping the low end table. His gaze zeroed in on Rafael and for a moment neither of them spoke.

Now Rafael would affirm that he was a very confident man. He knew what he liked, and he had found an occupation that let him indulge in it often. The relative stability of his lifestyle, however, depended on this one man. Rafael didn’t really think Carlos would ever rat him out to the authorities per se. But unlike the last few years, this particular assignment with B.A.P. and T.S. ran too personally for his boss, in his opinion.

And when emotions ran high, as Rafael saw time and again with his victims, people became unpredictable. Others labelled Rafael as a sociopath—a psychopath even—but for one, Rafael would rather just kill those people, and two, they were hypocrites. The range of emotion in regular, sane people was overrated.

For example, Carlos was not supposed to be here. He had said he’d entrust this plan’s execution to Rafael. The fact that he was sitting here in Rafael’s motel suite cracked Rafael's tranquility quite a bit. So he narrowed his eyes ever so slightly and marched up to his employer.

“What are you doing? It is too risky for you to show your face here.”

Carlos raised one eyebrow. “It is just as risky as my entrusting the money plates to you, Juancalos. I am here to protect my investment, as you can see.” His voice was level, but the twisting of the rings on his fingers showed Rafael how tense the man was. He really wanted this mission to succeed.

“If you don’t trust me, then you should not have asked me to do this job in the first place,” Rafael groused, “Do you realize that by showing up, you have endangered _both_ of us? Now, not only I have to look out for my own ass, but I also have to see to your safety.”

“What's this? Do I sense fear in your tone, Rafael? The fearless legendary Rafael Juancalos is actually scared for his life?” Carlos scoffed, standing and advancing on his subordinate.

Rafael stood his ground, peering at Carlos like he would a subject of science. Truly, other people were baffling creatures. “Considering the fact that we are being hunted by the Americans—now with the home advantage—excuse me for factoring in the level of risk appropriately. An ex-CIA agent such as yourself should have been aware of that,” Rafael replied, some of his temper leaking through. Carlos picked up on it and jerked his head to the side like a stubborn stallion.

“I am, in fact,” Carlos retorted, “The CIA have had very little evidence of my whereabouts since my presumed death years ago. It should be long cold by now and assigned to small-time newbies. Besides, there are still a lot of corrupted individuals dwelling among them. Or else, how do you think I managed to deceive them?”

He crossed to the tacky sun-shaped wall mirror hanging by the door and continued, “I have a new face now so I'm not worried about exposing myself to the public. No one would recognize me,” Carlos ensured. Rafael remained silent, thinking. It wasn’t as if Carlos had killed the plastic surgeon who worked on him—as Rafael would have done without a thought, and enjoyed doing it—so he was being too definite in that assumption.

“Proceed with whatever plans you have conjured up. I won't get in your way,” Carlos was saying, “However, I'd like to personally retrieve the plates with my own hands.” Carlos turned and met Rafael’s gaze in a way that conveyed this request was more an order than anything else. “Or at the very least, I wish to witness you taking the plates off of those stupid kids' hands with my own two eyes.”

Rafael resisted the urge to breathe out a long sigh. It was clear what Carlos really meant by this order: he didn’t trust that Rafael would hand over the plates after they traded the girl for them. It was…insulting. As if Rafael cared for such trivial goods as money. No, the only currency he truly craved was the currency of blood. Everyone had it, rich or poor.

Instead, he returned Carlos’ stare with his own intense one, before turning his back and heading towards the door. “I'll see what I can do,” he answered, then left.

 _Damn that ungrateful old fart for even doubting my allegiance. I should just really take the damn plates, throw them over the Hoover Dam, and be done with him,_ Rafael fumed to himself as he stopped in front of another room. The door’s laminated label read 103 in faded lettering.

Two guards greeted him obsequiously, exchanging glances in a nervous fashion.

“What is it?” Rafael questioned.

The guard on the left bravely met his stare and stammered, “W-well, um, there are other people in there.”

“What others? I told you to not let anyone inside with the hostage,” Rafael reminded him, voice low and dangerous. The man flinched.

“I-I know, but…” he looked down, unable to keep up the eye contact—like the sheep he was—while his companion bit his chapped lower lip, “I-it was the boss, sir. Mr. Rodriguez came here.”

“So what?” Rafael did not snap, but only because it scared his underlings more when he was being falsely calm.

“He had other girls with him, sir!” The guard on the right suddenly chimed in, “Two of his call girls, I think, and he wanted to keep them somewhere while he waited for you to return. Only, he also brought one of the girl’s pimps with him, too, and the guy insisted that the girls could not be trusted to be left alone, so he barged in there anyway even though we told you what you had said and…yea,” he ended in a small voice.

Rafael felt his annoyance rocket up another level. _So Carlos brought his prostitutes with him. Typical._ He actually did sigh then. “Step aside,” he ordered.

They immediately did so, leaving Rafael facing the door. _Carlos can't do shit without my support anyway. He has come to rely on me too much these past years. And those whores of his._ Rafael twisted the door knob and pushed forward, entering the hostage’s room.

“...so you will listen whenever I tell you, bitch!” a rough male voice was saying.

Rafael came upon Carlos’ man, the so-called pimp, with one of his large hands fixed behind a thin girl’s blond hair, basically spitting as he yelled into her face. A second blond, dressed in a dirty corset, lay whimpering against the desk, a large bruise forming on her left cheek.

Now usually, Rafael would feel nothing but admiration at the way the blown capillary blood suffused across delicately pale skin, and how the girls’ round eyes were filled to the brim with fear and humiliation. He was usually the one who caused such feelings in the first place.

But at the moment, he had little time to discern the situation before his original hostage started screaming.

“Stop it! Stop it right now!” Samantha hollered, voice trembling but filled with urgent righteousness. Rafael felt one brow raise, a bit surprised. Samantha was such an unfortunate person, really. Tailing along with B.A.P. and Ms. Kim Le, and ending up as trading piece between them and Carlos.

Playing with her during that torture video was such sweetness, Rafael could do it all day really. She was an easy victim, and he had told her as much just after he’d ended the video message. Perhaps his comment had gotten under her skin, and now she was feeling wretchedly weak enough to attempt a desperate retaliation.

My, my, he loved it when they fought back.

It was for this reason that he stood calmly by the door, watching it play out for a bit. Samantha had her back to him, as she lingered nervously on edge of one of the beds, facing the abusive pimp.

“Shut yer hole!” the man retorted, “You may not be one of the whores that Carlos gave me to train for him, but I’ll still whallop you if yer being mouthy!”

 _Well, he needs to improve his grammar,_ Rafael thought idly.

“I can’t just stand by while you…you _monsters_ beat and kill people!” Samantha returned heatedly, then added in a quieter, uncertain voice, “Not anymore….”

The man laughed, a jarring sound tainted by years of cigarette smoking. “Yer a weakling, girlie, so don’t even try—“ His sentence was cut off when Samantha hurled a small hardcover book at his head, nailing him on the forehead.

Rafael frowned. He had clearly instructed the guards to empty the room of potential weapons or tools before locking her in here…. He caught sight of the book’s title then and laughed outright. It was the Bible.

Samantha twirled in shock at the sound of his amusement, freezing in place and watching him with wide eyes, the eyes of a doe caught in a hunter’s aim. Rafael smiled cheerily.

“A righteous book for such a seemingly righteous deed! Ha!” Rafael even gave her a couple claps for trying. “But you are a fool, Samantha. What would you have done in the end but been overpowered?”

“Yea, you cunt!” the pimp added, sitting up, though he had one hand cradling his head. Rafael could see a thin trail of blood from the cut under his palm.

“You,” Rafael addressed the man, hissing the words, “Be silent.” The man instantly quieted. Rafael went on, “Regardless of what Mr. Rodriguez told you, you still had no right to inflict your prostitute’s training regimen on my operation. I wanted the lady here in solitude for a reason, and I am not pleased to find her…not so.”

The man’s mouth gaped in an ugly way for a couple seconds before he shut it with a click, gathering his shredded dignity about him hurriedly. “Fine! But I’m tellin’ Mr. Rodriguez about this, don’t you think I won’t!”

With that weak and cliché rejoinder, the pimp seized the two blonds’ wrists and left the room, shoving them in front of him. Seeing the action, Samantha—possibly moved by the girls’ plight, Rafael wasn’t sure because he never cared about sympathy or empathy in his life—lunged forwards, one hand outstretched.

“No! Let them go! They don’t deserve to be treated that way!”

Quick as lightning, Rafael’s left knuckles backhanded her across the cheek, sending her reeling backwards onto one of the beds with a cry.

The girl fixed him with a vicious glare nonetheless as Rafael made his way over to her. He smirked at the obvious animosity, though not _that_ impressed. Many girls had looked at him this way…until he had them begging for mercy near the end.

“Such an intense gaze. After going through all that, you still manage to rouse some fighting spirit? I admire your bravery, girl.” Rafael said, reaching out a hand to brush her long hair. She turned her head, leaning away from his touch. Rafael frowned, “Or is it only bravado? Those girls are already doomed.”

Samantha swiveled back to him at that, biting her lip at the truth in his statement. After a moment, she blinked, then moved on, “And what have you done to Hector?” she spat.

Rafael tilted his head and laid a finger over his mouth. “Who?” He asked, confused.

Fury flashed in the girl’s eyes. “The boy I was with when your men raided the Le's vacation house. What have you done to him?” she repeated, voice rising.

Rafael ignored the anger apparent in her tone and simply shrugged. “I usually don't waste my time with unnecessary matters like names. If you don't see him here with you then he must be dead already.” And it was true. Rafael only knew Samantha’s name because she was his target, after all.

Samantha's eyes widened, and her cheeks paled to a deathly hue. _What a lovely sight_ , Rafael thought to himself.

“You…killed him?” she asked in a shaky voice, though outwardly she tried to keep calm. Rafael could see the beginning of tears at the inner corner of her eyes only because he was so attuned to how to make people cry.

However, he had no time to enjoy it at the moment, so he said, “Rather than concerning yourself with someone else, you should be worrying for your own safety, girlie.” He snapped his fingers as he spoke, and the two armed men who had stood guard walked in as Rafael finished his last sentence. They forcefully yanked Samantha forward and off the bed. She struggled to resist but in the end had to give in to the men's brute strength.

“Now, why don't you doll yourself up for tonight? We have a party to attend.” Rafael pulled Sam's face forward to meet his. She wrenched to the side in disgust so hard Rafael could almost her neck crack. He threw her a departing smile as his men pulled her out of the room.

Rafael chuckled darkly. _Well that was interesting. I'm looking forward to the party tonight._ He turned to the room’s only window, a tiny block of plexiglass that did not open at all. He looked towards the glow of The Strip’s artificial light, strengthening in the waning sunset, and breathed.

Tonight would be significant. Rafael could feel it.

* * *

 

_Presidential Suite, Golden Dream Casino, Las Vegas, USA_

Yong-guk scrunched his eyebrows at the overly large black fur coat that his second-in-command was dangling in front of his face. “No way in hell I'm gonna wear that!” Yong-guk observed dryly.

“Oh, common now, you'll look good in it. Besides, you're not going as ‘you’ to the party so what's the big deal?” Him-chan coaxed, merciless.

“I don't think John Cho would wear something like that either,” Yong-guk argued, trying to edge backwards without it seeming like he was scared of a piece of clothing—if you could call it that.

Him-chan immediately held up a picture on his cell phone of the actor John Cho wearing the exact same fur coat. Yong-guk almost swallowed his tongue, “Oh.... Damn.”

“Zelo worked really hard researching John Cho's looks for you. Don't let him down,” Him-chan cajoled again, pouting his lips.

“You look and sound like a mother bragging about her son,” Yong-guk deadpanned.

Him-chan, to his credit, didn’t bat an eyelash at the ridiculous statement, saying instead, “That's what the boys have been calling me all this time. Goes to show how much attention you've been giving me and the kids,” Him-chan complained, rolling up his eyes at a play of long-suffering for a moment, then burst into laughter.

Yong-guk wrinkled his lips, “I couldn’t care less about your mistaken motherly urges, Him-chan...and that was disturbing. So disturbing.” He snatched the fur atrocity, turned around, and strode from Him-chan's room.

Out in the corridor, though, Yong-guk smiled at the whole encounter. It was rare that Him-chan acted so silly but Yong-guk did not mind. In fact, he was glad that Him-chan was present. His friend knew exactly how to lighten up the mood even at a time like this. The two had grown up together, surviving intense situations, first in their training and then in actual missions. If Him-chan hadn’t been there, Yong-guk wouldn't be where he was now.

 _That silly bastard, maybe I should let him be the one to escort Kim to the party wearing that ridiculous coat instead,_ Yong-guk thought to himself. He suspected Him-chan wouldn’t mind all that much, just to be around Kim, especially in a protective role. They were alike in that respect. Though lately, it was truer for Him-chan.

Yong-guk sighed. He wondered just how close those two were becoming. Him-chan definitely looked and acted more worried for Kim recently, not that Yong-guk blamed him what with that blasted Rafael playing around with Kim’s mental stability. _Somehow I think Him-chan is more stressed than he lets on. I still need to discuss with him the spy problem,_ he reminded himself. They hadn’t had enough time yet, what with the party preparations to make.

Resolving to make some time as soon as possible, Yong-guk stopped walking and yanked open the door to his room. What he found made him freeze.

Behind the door, Young-jae immediately jolted up from his hunched position over the desk at the sound of Yong-guk’s entrance. “Whoa, Hyung! You scared me,” the younger man responded, face pulled into one of surprise.

Yong-guk peered intensely at the angles of the younger man’s face, trying to determine if there was anything remotely fake about the projected emotion…but, damn it, there wasn’t anything he could say for sure that screamed “Spy!” to him. He glanced down to see what Young-jae was doing. His hands hovered above Yong-guk’s Giorgio Armani black suit that Kim had had brought up for him. Yong-guk quirked an eyebrow and met Young-jae’s gaze once more.

“What exactly are you doing over there?” Yong-guk asked, voice squeezed flat of emotions.

Young-jae put one hand behind his head and gave his signature silly smile. “Ah, sorry Hyung. I'm looking for my earpiece. Have you seen it anywhere? I think I dropped it in your room after we finished reviewing the plan.” His brow wrinkled in thought as he crouched to peer first under the desk, then under Yong-guk's bed, then veering on all fours to the adjacent closest door.

“No, I haven't seen it, Young-jae,” Yong-guk finally managed to answer, his mind struggling to filter through the suspicions cluttering its frontal lobe. “Are you sure you dropped it in here?” Yong-guk quickly stepped up to his suit while Young-jae was out of sight inside the closet. Hands searched every fabric pocket carefully from the vest down to the side pockets of his pants, making sure that he wasn't being bugged.

“I'm not sure. I mean, I don't remember where I dropped it, ‘cause I wouldn’t drop it on purpose, duh,” Young-jae yelled back, voice muffled as if he was bending over a far corner.

Meanwhile, Yong-guk sighed softly, reassured when he found nothing in his suit. Of course, this didn’t get Young-jae off the hook; he may have just been caught before he was able to plant the device. With that thought, Yong-guk started towards his closet, uncertain of what he’d ask that could be incriminating enough. “Hey, Young-jae, were you even physically in my closet earli--”  
  
“Hyung! I found it!” Jong-up’s voice suddenly yelled from the balcony, “It was lying on the floor out here.”

Young-jae came bounding like a gazelle from the closet at the announcement, face alit with relief. “Fuck, Jong-up, you're amazing! Thank you so much! It could have rolled off and Zelo would have been so pissed at me!” He threw two long arms around Jong-up gratefully. Before Jong-up could work up a response, Young-jae had stepped back and plucked the earpiece from Jong-up’s palm, turning to Yong-guk as he fitted the gadget into his right ear. “I'm sorry, what was it that you wanted to ask me earlier?”

Yong-guk instinctively brushed off the question with a flat smile, “It's nothing.” He could feel that the smile did not reach his eyes, “I was just…wondering if you had accidentally dropped it in my vest.”

“Oh yeah I thought so too, but I looked and it wasn't there. Jong-up, you saved me, buddy! C’mon, I’ll grab you a soda or something. What do you want?” And with that, Young-jae dragged Jong-up out of the room, his high-energy leading the way, as usual.

Alone, Yong-guk fell back onto his bed and buried his face with his hands. For some reason he felt terrible for doubting Young-jae's loyalty. But as this stage of the game he needed to be extra careful in considering every possible clue about the mole. Feelings be damned.

Just as he could feel his body relaxing, his cell phone vibrated. It was a text message from Kim:

Are you ready? Do we need to go over the plan with everyone one last time?

After sending a short reply, Yong-guk sucked in a fortifying breath, then heaved himself off the bed. There was a suit and an ugly fur coat with his name on it.

White cotton tee under a gray oxford follow by a dark satin vest were pulled on easily enough. Fresh boxer-briefs were followed by charcoal trousers that complimented the matte black leather dress shoes he’d received. Ignoring the dead and reworked-for-fashion animal on the bed for now, Yong-guk sought the bathroom mirror.

He smoothed back his hair, trying to make himself as classy a possible, reminding himself to channel John Cho's personality and behaviors. He tried to run through the quick notes that Zelo had given him that morning after he finished his 'research' on the celebrity.

_“Remember Hyung, don't try to socialize a lot at the party. People might get suspicious of you not being the real John Cho. In fact, it’d be best if you just linger around the bar area where Jong-up and Dae-hyun Hyungs will be. Safer for you.”_

Sure. Keep his eyes open and his mouth shut. _How hard can it be?_ He thought to himself.

Yong-guk finished with a spray of cologne and tugged his cuffs down, mind running through last minute details. Occupied as he was, he almost forgot the fur coat and had to run back to get it. By the time he arrived in the living room, Zelo was already going through the mission timeframes and individual tasks for Young-jae, Dae-hyun and Jong-up one last time. Yong-guk allowed himself one envious glance at Zelo’s comfortable casual attire before seeking his second-in-command.

Him-chan was crouched over Zelo's laptop connecting a few wires to his own notebook and Kim's. Since she'd be attending the party Zelo commandeered it for use as a dual monitor. Team Two’s primary purpose was to keep an eye on everyone, after all. More screens meant more security camera feeds available.

Yong-guk had his earpiece in hand and was fiddling with it when the door opened and Kim entered. He looked up, a greeting on his tongue but never got a chance to say it.

Because Yong-guk was caught off guard. He found himself stunned, to be honest.

Kim’s slender frame was swathed in a peach-colored, floor-length gown. The sleeveless bodice shimmered slightly, fabric pulled into a star shape that wrapped around her waist, then gave way to flowing layers of wispy cloth. Instead of the usual tiers that Yong-guk had occasionally seen on other fancy women’s dresses, though, Kim’s gown had vertical layers, like the curling edges of a handmade book. The overall effect made it extremely elegant, yet authoritative—and above all, tall.

_What kind of heels is she wearing, damn!_

“Woww, Noona, look at you!” Young-jae whistled appreciatively, “Now I kinda want to attend the party myself...as your escort. Haha!” he teased stepping forward.

Him-chan immediately moved into his path, though he somehow made it look natural, not tense at all. “Nah, you're fine with the surveillance task,” even managing to smile at Young-jae, “You can still keep an eye out on her that way. Through a computer.”

Young-jae got the obvious hint and sighed dramatically backing off to go grumble to Dae-hyun. Meanwhile, Him-chan had taken Kim’s hand and pulled her gently into the room, his eyes never leaving her face. Kim met his gaze and blushed a bit, before shaking herself back into her cheeky self.

“Just because I doll myself up and put on an Christian Dior gown, you all start being extra nice? How messed up is that?” Kim questioned wryly, tilting her head. Her glossy brown hair, all swept to one side and curled into gentle waves, tumbled over her bare shoulder with the motion.

“Aw, Noona. We’re nice to you all the time. Just a teeny bit extra when you actually look pretty,” Young-jae called out again, this time standing safely behind Dae-hyun as he spoke.

“Hey! Don’t put me in the middle of this!” Dae-hyun protested in alarm, trying to twist around.

“Hmm, I think I can hurl this purse at your head hard enough to cause some real damage if I hit your eye, Young-jae,” Kim mused aloud.

“Alright, enough! If you would all calm your horses down,” Yong-guk chided, irritated more than he could say about the joking. Young-jae’s camaraderie felt obscene in light of the suspicions against him. “It's about time to start. Does everyone know their assignment?” Various affirmations met his query, and Yong-guk nodded. “Good! Last check up on the earpieces. Are they all working and ready to go?”

Zelo slid on his headphones, and after a few quick keystrokes, gave his leader a thumbs up.

“Okay, well if no one has anything to say I guess it's time to move on with the mission.” Yong-guk gestured to Zelo to take the proverbial podium.

Taking a seat, Zelo began talking, “It's 17:30 now. Dae-hyun hyung and Jong-up hyung, you guys should leave now since you're playing waiters. They’ll expect you to familiarize yourself with the area and kitchen staff first-off. This will give you time to map the surroundings and exits. When the guests arrive, you can inform us when Rafael shows as well.” Dae-hyun and Jong-up nodded as they each secured a gun to their waistbands, underneath their black and white waiter’s ensemble. “Alright, now Boss, your arrival time at the party will be at 18:50. I will keep a really close eye out for you and give you a 'two' heads’ start if anyone tries to attack you or Kim,” Zelo informed, looking over to Yong-guk.

“Thanks kiddo, though I think I can handle it,” Yong-guk replied, smirking back at the techie.

“Last, but not least, our honor guest of the evening. Noona, you'll be the last of the group to arrive at the party. Around 19:00. By that time, I’ll have a good idea of the layout of the party and its attendants from the others. Plus, Yong-guk hyung would already be there so you should be in good hands.” Zelo finished.

Him-chan nodded, “And Team Two will be ready to go at a moment’s notice should the need arise. Let's hope the plan to goes smoothly, though, shall we?”

* * *

 

It was exactly half past six. Everyone was watching the computer screen anxiously as Dae-hyun and Jong-up checked in with the head event planner, introducing themselves as last minute hired hands. After making a call, the planner nodded briskly at them, gesturing for a kitchen boy to fetch the two B.A.P. members some aprons.

Yong-guk nodded, satisfied. “It's about time I left, then.” He stood, donning his furry monstrosity and wriggling his shoulders to settle it on his frame.

“Okay! Good luck,” Young-jae said, smiling at him. Yong-guk somehow managed a perfunctory smile in return, though he couldn’t really meet the younger man’s eyes. He didn’t want to, lest Young-jae saw the distrust in his gaze.

He looked to Kim instead. “And Kim,” he waited for her to face him, “Try to relax, ok? You got this. It’s a party. No one’s gonna interfere with us getting Samantha back.”

Kim nodded slowly, though she still frowned. “Yea, a party. Sure.”

With one last reassuring look, Yong-guk turned for the door, signaling for Him-chan and Zelo to accompany him. The trio stood just outside the door, leaving Young-jae cracking jokes inside to lighten Kim's mood.

“I’ll be watching you, Hyung. No worries,” Zelo affirmed. Yong-guk nodded, but this wasn’t why he pulled them the two of them out here. He grabbed Zelo's wrist and pulled him close to whisper in his ear.

“Zelo, I'm sorry, I know you are busy right now, but could you do me a small favor?”

Raising an eyebrow, Zelo acquiesced. “Sure, Hyung. What is it exactly?”

“While I'm gone, I need you to do a discrete, but complete background check on all the B.A.P. members for me,” Yong-guk said. This time, Zelo blinked at the request.

“All...of them? Shouldn't we just be focusing on Young-jae?” Zelo questioned.

Yong-guk saw Him-chan’s sharp glance settle on the younger boy and he spoke, “Why did you single him out like that?”

“Because...he's the most suspicious…” Zelo answered uncertainly, “right?” he looked to Yong-guk for confirmation. Yong-guk abruptly realized that he never did relate to Him-chan the fact that Zelo had found Young-jae’s ID beforehand.

“Yes, he is, Him-chan. I agree with Zelo here,” he turned back to Zelo, “I still want reports on everyone, though, just to be on the safe side. Look for any discrepancies, unaccounted time, covert phone calls, etc.” He hesitated for a moment, then went on, “This includes Kim and Derek.”

This time Him-chan’s scrutiny landed on Yong-guk. “Seriously, Yong-guk?”

“I’m not going to let any more surprises crop up, Him-chan,” Yong-guk explained firmly. “This spy has to be found.”

Him-chan inclined his head, ceding Yong-guk’s authority, as was proper, though the single frown line still remained etched between his eyebrows. He gave Yong-guk a indiscernible look, but eventually slapped Yong-guk’s left shoulder in a brotherly way, then returned to Kim’s side.

Yong-guk’s phone chimed then to let him know he was running late. Silencing it, he stepped around Zelo, towards the elevator, turning over his shoulder to add, “And Zelo, keep the results a secret until you can report to me.”

He heard Zelo’s soft reply just as the he boarded the lift. “Secret secrets amongst secretive souls. Juuust great.”

* * *

 

_Garden of the Gods Oasis Pools, Caesar’s Palace, Las Vegas, USA_

Dae-hyun sighed under his breath, then quickly pulled on a pleasant smile as a bedecked older lady with too much lipstick grabbed a champagne flute from his tray of drinks. It was fifteen minutes till seven and guests were slowly filling up the room. Getting in as the wait staff had gone smoothly. It hadn’t hurt that he and Jong-up were handsome enough for the party planner’s tastes. For a shindig of this level, celebrities always wanted eye candy of some sort.

On the other side of the room, serving drinks and hors d’oeurves of his own, Jong-up looked as relaxed as ever. He didn’t smile as naturally as Dae-hyun did but it was probably due to his attention to the front door.

“Why on earth are you serving spanakopita?” Lipstick Woman suddenly asked him.

Dae-hyun blinked, “I’m sorry, ma’am?”

“It’s a _Greek_ dish, you know, and we are at Caesar’s, which is a _Roman_ styled venue.” Something about her critical tone was definitely patronizing and Dae-hyun resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Pulling a professional smile and affecting a slight apologetic bow, he said, “I’m sure the origin was not maliciously meant, ma’am—“

“It’s ‘ _Mizz,’_ ” she corrected, frown lines scrunching up her eyebrows. _Uh huh, and you’re really younger than thirty, riiight,_ Dae-hyun thought.

“Yes, _Mizz,_ ” Dae-hyun amended, “The chef considered the familiarity of the courses more important in this case than the ethnic appropriateness. I hope it still tastes exceptional.” He made it sound like a polite inquiry.

Lipstick Woman pursed her lips at him, but eventually nodded, then blessedly moved on. Dae-hyun did not linger and turned the opposite direction, hoping not to have to meet more people like her.

“ _Our leader is about to enter,”_ Jong-up voice reported in his earl. Dae-hyun glanced up to see his fellow waiter passing the check-in counter where Yong-guk was presenting his (fake) invitation. Also making his way towards Yong-guk, Dae-hyun caught the accepting nod from the host. Seemed he bought Yong-guk’s disguise.

“ _He's through,”_ Jong-up reported for the others’ benefit.

“ _Now we just need to wait for Noona's arrival.”_ Dae-hyun mumbled, approaching Yong-guk from the side. “Champagne, sir?” he asked more loudly.

Yong-guk took the glass, “Yes, thank you.” He drank, then loitered by Dae-hyun’s side, pretending to peruse the food choices. “Any sign of Rafael?” Yong-guk asked the plate.

“Nope. Jong-up and I have been here for almost two hours now and no sign of him yet,”Dae-hyun answered peeking up at the security camera he knew Zelo had already accessed for the second surveillance team. He turned back to his plate and handed Yong-guk a canapé. “Nice coat, by the way,” he added grinning.

Yong-guk shot him a warning glance before taking his leave. Dae-hyun held back a cheeky grin.

“ _I don't think he’s arrived yet. My guess is he’ll aim to come exactly at 7:00 p.m. Along with Kim.”_ Came a reply from Him-chan, “ _I'll have Young-jae keep a singular watch on the entry way.”_

“ _Urg...just sitting around watching people walking in and out is so boring,”_ Young-jae complained, no doubt ready to droop in his seat.

“And Sam, too, Young-jae. Let me know if you see her,” Dae-hyun reminded his friend.

“Naturally,” Young-jae confirmed. Dae-hyun breathed out forcefully to keep the anxiety at bay, then headed to the bar to refill his tray.

“ _I saw Bay and his girlfriend. She looks his daughter's age,”_ Yong-guk commented from wherever he stood. “ _What is going on with the kids these days?”_

 _“The same thing as always: money is attractive,”_ Him-chan answered.

Dae-hyun snorted and concurred, though he didn’t reply since the bartender was starting to stare at him confusedly. With a small salute, Dae-hyunn took off across the room again.

“ _Wait!”_ Young-jae’s voice suddenly chimed in, “ _Sorry....I don't know how Rafael looks like….”_

“ _Are you serious? We had all morning to prepare for the plan and it’s now you just realize this?”_ came the clearly frustrated Zelo.

“ _I had a lot on my mind, OK?”_ Young-jae protested, _“You got like a picture of his face or something?”_

“ _Or a picture of what else, exactly?”_ Him-chan questioned, sounding slightly amused.

Tuning out Young-jae’s excuses, Dae-hyun almost rolled his eyes. Sometimes Young-jae was a bit, well, lazy. He often conveniently forgot certain details in favor of seeking excitement or enjoying what complaints he could create. Sometimes, between him and Jong-up, the lack of focus was astounding.

“ _Noona's about to enter,”_ Jong-up reported, cutting off on Young-jae. Dae-hyun immediately turned towards the glass doors, shoving the last champagne glass into a random man’s hand so his tray was empty. He’d be able to use it as a bludgeon if Kim met trouble. He could even make it look like an accident (whereas pulling his gun would not).

“ _Welcome, Miss Le,”_ Dae-hyun heard the host greet her as he check-marked her name on his guest list. _“Enjoy the party.”_

“ _Thank you,”_ Kim answered, voice tight. She stepped past the host with a smile, nonetheless, and into the open patio area surrounding the pools. The evening lights scattered on the still waters, each one artfully placed by Caesar’s Palace designers to achieve the greatest effect. Kim looked like a jewel in this setting, and Dae-hyun took a moment to wonder how Him-chan was responding to the obvious male attention Kim was attracting.

“ _That is a beautiful dress, miss.”_ Surprisingly, it was a woman who first spoke, however. She had entered behind Kim with a date of her own. Both Dae-hyun and Jong-up quickly glanced at Kim. Kim had startled, coiled as tensely as she was, but sucked in a quick breath and pulled on a smile.

“ _Why thank you. It's Dior…”_ the two continued gushing about each other’s dresses and hair, so Dae-hyun turned away to continue his party surveillance.

* * *

 

_Twenty minutes later_

“Champagne, miss?” Jong-up offered, holding out a laden black tray with easy balance. Kim sighed.

“Yes, thank you,” She took a glass delicately by the stem, resisting the urge to rub her eyes and ruin her make up. Yong-guk had been right. She needed to find a way to calm down. All this playacting at being calm was really not making her calm. Especially when every man and woman who came up to chat with her sent her heart rate skipping inside her ribcage.

Take a larger than necessary gulp, she asked Jong-up, hiding her lips behind the bubbly beverage, “Any sign of Rafael?”

“Not yet,” Jong-up answered again. Kim gave him a tiny accepting nod, then the pair separated.

The party continued on in that vein for another forty minutes—meet and greet, compliments on the dress, questions about her lack of date, comments on Michael Bay’s new movie, hints for a date—yet still no sign of Rafael. _What the heck is going on? Is he messing with me right now?_ Kim thought restlessly. She had begun to pace around the pool’s edge, not staying in one spot just in case some of the other guests recognized her from her yacht business.

 _“Calm down, Kim. You're appearing too anxious for a party,”_ Yong-guk spoke in her ear. Kim looked up but couldn’t see him in the immediate vicinity.

“I know that, OK? But why hasn't he arrived yet? _He_ was the one that invited me and it's almost freakin’ eight p.m. and still nothing?” Kim hissed lowly, holding the glass close to her mouth once more. She consciously stopped her mind from envisioning what Rafael could be doing instead of meeting her here. Perhaps he had changed his plans and decided to play around with Sam more? Oh god, what was he _doing?_

 _“Kim, breathe. Him-chan, what do you see?”_ Yong-guk prompted.

 _“I'm watching the entrance closely. And Young-jae’s double-checking every face in the crowd. Rafael is nowhere to be found among the newcomers. And there aren’t any faces present that haven’t already been checked in by the host…unless we’ve missed somebody,”_ Him-chan recounted. Kim bit her lip, trying not to feel too downtroddened.

 _“I highly doubt that,”_ Dae-hyun interjected, “ _I've been here two hours before both Yong-guk hyung and Noona arrived, and have almost all of the guests’ faces memorized. If Rafael has been in already then I would know.”_

 _“Same here. I've made my way over to pretty much everyone in the area.”_ That was Jong-up.

 _“Parking garage and valet shows high traffic. It's difficult to tell with all these people arriving and departing. And not all of them are attending Bay’s party anyways,”_ Zelo added.

Kim let out a stressful sigh. She slumped into a nearby chaise sitting beside a large stone water fountain and pulled up her stilettos. Her feet were going to ache horribly in the morning, but it was a fly’s bother compared to what was eating at her now.

Slowly, almost agonizingly slowly, another half an hour passed with absolutely no sign of the psychopathic kidnapper/assassin. Kim could feel her patience waning like a leaky bucket. Already, she had made half-hearted conversations with two hopeful men, one as shy and stuttering as the other was arrogant and boastful. Both had been tedious. However, they had each brought her a free drink and she’d drained them dry, wishing the alcohol would numb her a bit. The empty glasses sat neglected now on the edge of the fountain.

 _This is ridiculous,_ Kim fumed, standing abruptly. With a glance at the security camera, Kim strode forwards. _And three…two…one…_

 _“Where are you going?”_ Yong-guk questioned after she had taken not five steps. Zelo was definitely keeping up with her then. Good. _“Kim?”_ Yong-guk repeated from where he stood near the bar. Dae-hyun hovered nearby, ostensibly on covering for the bartender while the guy went out for a smoking break.

“I'm going outside to blow off some steam for a little bit. This is a joke waiting around and we are clearly being played with by that bastard. He's not even here and it's freakin’ 9:00 pm already.” Kim neatly sidestepped the other party-goers as she neared the door, staring down anyone who looked like they wanted to stop her for another damned drink.

 _“I don't think it's a good idea for you to leave on your own like that,”_ Yong-guk warned. Kim could hear the scraping sound of his chair as he stood up to chase her down.

 _“Hyung...”_ Dae-hyun whispered just then.

 _“Heyyy! If it isn't, like, the big shot actor himself. How you doing Cho?”_ A familiar voice shouted jovially in greeting over Yong-guk’s earpiece, its lilting rhythm eerily like that of Matthew McConaughey. Sure enough…

 _“Oh! It’s Mr. Matthew McConaughey!”_ Yong-guk announced, voice higher pitched than usual. Kim almost snorted out loud.

 _“Yea, man, that’s my name. I’m glad you still remember it,”_ McConaughey thankfully took Yong-guk’s greeting as a joke, and came in for a manly hug, “ _Man, I thought you said you couldn't attend the party ‘cause of another arrangement or something like that? And now you just up and showed up rockin’ a fur coat?! Dude, I saw it across the room and just had to come see ya!”_ he declared, grinning in his signature lopsided smile.

 _“Uh...plans changed, I guess,”_ Yong-guk shrugged, though from his tone, Kim could tell he was about to regret that fur coat all over again. _“I'm sorry but I really need to go. We'll catch up later, ok?”_ He moved to the right.

McConaughey moved with him, _“Whoa there, partner. You know it's really hard to get you to attend to any party, so having to see you here is rare chance. Come have a drink with me!”_

_“Matthew, I really can't. I'm really in a hurry, you know? Just popped by to say hello to everyone then, you know, gotta zoom.”_

_“Nah, nah!”_ McConaughey insisted, hands gesticulating amiably, “ _Just one drink. OK? Just one. Hey bartender! Give my friend and I here the best drinks you have in the house. Make it a doozy!”_

 _“Umm...sure. Right away,”_ came Dae-hyun's troubled reply. Clearly he was conflicted on keeping his cover or doing what Yong-guk would want him to do; namely, follow Kim.

 _“I'll go look after her then, hyung. Don't sweat it,”_ Jong-up said from wherever he was.

Kim did not wait for Jong-up. Amusing as Yong-guk’s predicament was, at the moment, she felt no desire to stand around and laugh. Murmuring her regards to the host, she passed beyond the glass doors again, starting down the left hallway that would take her to the oversized David statue. Unfortunately, a swarm of tourists were loitering at the junction talking raucously, which did nothing for Kim’s nerves. With a sigh, she turned on her heel and headed back towards the pool area, heels tapping quickly along the floor. This time, upon passing the host podium, she veered to the right, heading for the adjacent Venus Pool.

All the guests had navigated to the main Temple Pool to cheer on a gray-haired man making a speech. This suited Kim just find as she sidled up to the pool’s edge, standing hidden from the party goers by a stone pillar in a semblance of privacy. She inhaled the mix of night air and chlorine-treated water, reaching for calm and serenity, though doubtful she’d fully grasp it. _God, Him-chan made keeping one’s cool look so easy! It’s not fair._

Reaching up to her right ear, Kim dug out her earpiece slightly, rotating the little device in her fingers to clean it off. Movies and TV shows made it look easy to have these things in all the time, but there was only so much earwax a girl could take sometimes. That, and the constant stream of sounds from everyone else on your channel.

She hid her hand with her hair so that if any onlookers noticed, it would just look like she was messing around with her earring.

 _“Noona...is that coming from you? What is that noise?”_ Zelo’s voice called. She had not heard it in a while. There had only been the sound of rapid keyboard strokes and mouse clicks from his end. But then, Kim supposed that unlike their last mission in Puerto Rico, this one did not require constant navigation from him.

“It’s nothing Zelo, I'm just cleaning my--” Suddenly, someone bumped into her from behind, sending her elbow jerking forward. Her fingers fumbled and the earpiece plopped into the water with a tiny splash. _Shit!_ Kim cursed, one hand outstretched towards the sunken and ruined gadget futilely.

Irked, Kim spun around, chastising words already on her tongue. She blinked to find the woman who had first greeted her at the entrance to the party earlier that evening.

“Pardon me! I am so sorry! Did I make you drop your earring?” the woman apologized, eyes wide, one hand reaching up to inspect Kim’s offended ear while the other hand clutched a glass of red wine, its contents slushing around dangerously as the woman moved. Her fair skin looked pale and clammy, and as Kim stared back at her, she bit her lip.

“Oh, um...nah, it's ok. It's not important,” Kim brushed off, pausing, “But, well, are you all right? You don’t look so good.” Suddenly the woman lurched forwards, into Kim’s personal space. Kim automatically stepped back, but had to stop when her back hit one of the pillars surrounding the pool.

“Excuse me. You're a little too close...” Kim said unsurely, hoping the woman wasn’t about to vomit on her. Now that would just be a splendid turn for the night to take.

However, the woman just raised her chin and leaned even closer, nearly nuzzling into Kim’s neck. _What the hell? A little handsy, are we? This is weird._ If Kim were one to believe in vampires, she supposed this was where she got bitten.

The two stood there for another second in a mix of silence and confusion. Then the woman spoke, her soft voice ghosting across Kim’s ears, “I'm here to escort you to Mr. Rafael Juancalous.”

Kim stiffened, her previous anxiety crashing back through her system like a tsunami and she grabbed the woman's arm in a fierce grip. “Rafael! Is he here?” she demanded.

The woman flinched at Kim’s vehemence, placing her other hand over Kim's tight grip. She did not meet Kim’s eyes this time, and made no pleasant compliments about her dress. She only looked down at the ground and said, “Please, if you’ll follow me, Miss Le.” With that, she turned and made her way hurriedly towards the door into Caesar’s main building.

 _Shit, shit, shit! Rafael caught me completely by surprise,_ Kim thought to herself. Clever bastard, sending that woman to retrieve her. _He probably knew B.A.P. would’ve come with me…_ She gripped both of her hands into tight fists, deliberating her options now. If she followed this mysterious woman right now, the guys would not know where she went and— _damn it—_ she’d forgotten to tell Jong-up that she’d gone back into the party! He was probably walking around the casino looking for her.

But, but! She couldn’t hesitate! If she didn’t follow this woman, who knew what Rafael would do to Sam in retaliation for Kim’s no-show. _Fuck!_ Kim cursed.

Gritting her teeth, she tossed her head back and ran to catch up.

* * *

 

Kim steeled herself as she followed the thin woman to the roof of Caesar's Palace’s concert hall, dubbed the Colosseum, though there were no actual bloody arenas inside as there were in ancient Rome. Plus, the fact that this one sported a modern roof was already testament to the differences. A low parapet bordered the circular area, dotted with flagpoles at regular intervals, their pennants rustling gently in the erratic night wind. Spinning backup generators, air conditioner units, and air vents formed dark, sharp-cornered lumps in her vision.

She paid them no mind, because there was a tall man standing ahead of her, his broad back all she could see at the moment. He was wearing a white suit, both hands resting on the parapet in front of him as he gazed down at The Strip like some sort of human vulture.

“Mr. Juancalos,” the woman spoke up subserviently, “Miss Le is here.”

Rafael Juancalos turned around leisurely, swiveling his body first, then, finally, his face came into full view. Keen dark eyes pinned her almost excitedly, set in a sharp-angled face. Wisps of gray hair were visible on both of his side burns, while the rest of the black strands were gelled smoothly back. His expression looked exactly like the one he’d shown in the torture preview of Sam: the features of a sick man who enjoyed his sick work.

Rafael greeted her with a smirk set on thin lips that were outlined by a clean-cut goatee. Kim _loathed_ that smirk. She hated his entire face, really, and she clenched her fists so hard, she expected her nails to draw blood any minute now.

“Finally!” the murderer welcomed sweetly, “We meet at last, my little robin.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I LOVE writing in Rafael's p.o.v.? Yea, this chapter was no exception. I hope you all enjoyed it! The mission was intended to echo the one they did together at Sugar Drops. Of course, with a vastly different outcome. --C.


	37. Robin in the Arena

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kim faces Rafael atop the Colosseum, like the gladiators of old. And like the gladiators of old, there will be blood. But whose?

* * *

_Presidential Suite, Golden Dream Casino, Las Vegas, USA_

“Noona? Noona, respond!” Him-chan heard Zelo shout. Alarmed, Him-chan turned to B.A.P.’s communications expert.

“What’s wrong?” Him-chan demanded, forcing (and failing) to keep his heart rate steady. Zelo rarely sounded so flummoxed. On Zelo’s laptop screen, Him-chan could the see status light of Kim's earpiece blinking red.

“Fuck, hyung. I lost her!” Zelo announced angrily, fingers flying over the keys, bringing up alternate programs. Him-chan left him to it, turning to his own computer.

“Kim! Respond, damn it!” Him-chan yelled into his mic. Okay, so no longer the picture of calm. Not any longer, in any case. He desperately tried whatever commands he could think of in front of him. “Yong-guk!” Him-chan called frantically, “Yong-guk answer me!”

 _“I heard you the first time! Damn it! Fuckin’ Matthew McConaughey!”_ Yong-guk’s rustling could be heard as he shoved between other guests. Him-chan could guess that he escaped the celebrity immediately when Zelo couldn’t regain the connection. “ _Shit! Why does she have to go off on her own?”_ Yong-guk hissed, clearly as livid as Him-chan was worried. _“Spread out and find her!”_ Glimpsing at the camera feeds showed Dae-hyun doing just that. Him-chan could only assume that Jong-up was doing the same on the casino floor.

“Can you add the camera feeds from the casino, Zelo?” Young-jae spoke up. Him-chan had to agree it was a good idea.

Meanwhile, the youngest member nodded, “Yea, I doing that now. But I can’t manipulate it, FYI. Casino surveillance of gambling tables is constantly monitored for tampered feeds. There’s tons of firewalls and actual, live people watching all the time.”

“Yea, I know,” Young-jae replied.

“You do?” Zelo quirked an eyebrow.

“What? I can’t know something? Tch,” Young-jae protested, shrugging. “Now what should I do to help?”

Him-chan eyed Young-jae from the side uncertainly. Now wasn’t exactly the best time to give Young-jae unsupervised access to a computer, given that Zelo and Him-chan would both be too busy to monitor for any suspicious side activities.

“Well, I need to find out what happened to Kim’s earpiece. Here,” Zelo tossed Young-jae a small tablet with the necessary programs already pulled up, “Hit the diagnostics button and tell me what you find.” Young-jae nodded and hunched over the device as Zelo went back to his hacking.

Him-chan placed a hand over his mouth as he mentally ran through back up plans. Yong-guk and he had drawn up plenty in their years together, but never had they had to enact one of them with Kim on the mission.

And now her life was on the line. It was unacceptable. Him-chan couldn’t take the stillness anymore and had to start pacing. What if, despite all their careful precautions, Rafael had managed to abduct Kim as well? He could get Derek to do whatever he fucking wanted then! _Fuck!_

“Um, Zelo?” Young-jae’s voice interrupted Him-chan’s mental frenetic thoughts. Zelo grunted a response that Young-jae assumed was a ‘what.’ “Yea, I tried to get the programs going but I got a bunch of these in progress database searches….”

Zelo immediately yanked the tablet back from him. “Oops, ignore those. Just some research for new gadgets from last night.” Touching a few spots on the screen, Zelo then handed it back to Young-jae. “There. Just hit start.”

“Thanks,” Young-jae said.

As he looked back down at the tablet, Zelo shot Him-chan a surreptitious look. The knowledge of Yong-guk’s secret request passed between them, and Him-chan nodded his head ever so slightly, acknowledging that Zelo had given an acceptable lie.

“Oh hey! It’s done!” Young-jae declared, “That was fast….ohhhh, fuck.”

“What?” Him-chan’s heart leapt in his throat.

Young-jae glanced at Him-chan, probably hearing his panic. “Oh, it’s not Kim, hyung. It’s just…yea, I don’t understand this IT mumbo jumbo.”

“Read it out loud,” Him-chan ordered.

Young-jae complied, “It says, ‘Client data error 507, TCP implementation acknowledge required for input connection. Request timeout. Analyzing results: Internal troubleshooting error, corruption detected. Technical failure, conduit disruption.’ Also known as, ‘blah blah blah, lah lah lah, I-have-no-fucking-idea-what-this-fucking-means,” Young-jae ended with a jaded frown.

“Basically no connection due to problems with the physical earpiece unit, not our connection, which I already surmised since our own earpieces still work just fine,” Zelo translated.

“Then what happened?” Him-chan questioned.

“Kim got snatched? Whose ass do I have to kick?” Young-jae volunteered, eager to get away from working IT mumbo jumbo, no doubt. _Or just leaving the room to do something else…._ There was no way to tell, and constantly thinking about double motives was going to drive him crazy on top of all this worry for Kim.

“Considering that she seemed in no distress when the connection died, I’d hypothesize that it shorted out,” Zelo stated.

“She dropped it in the pool?” Him-chan clarified, bewildered.

“Oh, so we’re all worrying for nothing?” Young-jae sounded affronted.

 _“No,”_ Yong-guk’s voice sounded. Apparently, he’d kept track of the conversation well enough, _“Kim would have come to me by now if she’d lost the earpiece. We still need to find her. I doubt it’s that simple.”_

Him-chan sighed. When is it ever?

“I’ll keep looking, hyung,” Zelo confirmed, pulling up the casino camera feeds now. Unfortunately, many of them were still cameras looking down on poker and blackjack tables and the like, and Zelo went about sorting through them for the ones that showed hallways and broader viewpoints.

So Kim had been next to a pool….

“Wait a minute!” Him-chan exclaimed, his brain feeling as if it tangibly clicked at the realization. “Zelo, if she dropped her earpiece into the pool, wouldn’t we already have her on one of the party cameras?”

 _“Well, she wasn’t near any of us, and I don’t see her among the other guests right now,”_ Dae-hyun chimed in.

 _“Did you see her around the pools, Zelo?”_ Yong-guk asked.

Zelo sighed. “No, hyungs. Sorry, the first thing I did was look through all the feeds of the last ten minutes. She’s not in any one of the them, although…” he hesitated, “there weren’t any close shots of the Venus Pool.”

“Why not?” Zelo turned to look at Him-chan at that question.

“Because the Venus Pool is sometimes used for private topless parties. People pay for that privacy, hyung. I didn’t exactly have time to install cameras. If I had had a week, well….” Zelo explained.

 _“It’s fine, Zelo,”_ Yong-guk responded, _“Knowing Kim, she left in the first place because she was getting too jittery about Rafael not showing up. She wanted privacy, and like an idiot, found it.”_ Him-chan heard him exhale a sigh of his own, then give further search parameters to the others.

But inside, Him-chan’s brain was whirring with new qualms. Because it wasn’t “fine.” Not with Kim’s life in peril, and the fact that she had disappeared just when she had found an unmonitored spot combined with the fact that Zelo had had no eyes in that area….

Something had to be up.

* * *

 

_Colosseum Rooftop, Caesar’s Palace, Las Vegas, USA_

Kim's body wouldn’t listen to her.

Her legs refused to move. Her arms had frozen like the heaviest Artic icebergs. Nothing but the autonomic functions of breath and heartbeat heeded her brain’s commands. She stood silently, eyes wide open, staring straight at the man who had laid her life to utter ruin. For it was certainly him this time.

“You. Look. _Absolutely_ beautiful,” Rafael complimented, his voice and hooded eyes dripping with sincerity. It sickened her. No monster like him should possibly express something like that so innocently.

He stood there clad head to toe in an expensive, elegant white suit, its hue spotless all around. Instead of a pocket square folded in his lapel pocket, a single red rose rested there, its petals just starting to bud. The ensemble was classically angelic.

It was wrong. Totally, horribly, unconditionally wrong. This was no angel, but a demon. In fact, Kim swore the vile stench of his breath could be detected even from across the rooftop.

The rush of pure loathing that suffused her veins was extremely welcome because it thawed her limbs with hot anger. She lowered her chin and glared daggers at Rafael, not flinching for a second when three tall gentlemen in black suits appeared from various hiding spots around the rooftop and took their places behind their boss. They had their hands in their pockets, looking relaxed but Kim knew she was in deep shit now. With her earpiece lost, she had no way to tell B.A.P her whereabouts. The guys were probably panicking.

Meanwhile, Rafael removed his thin left hand from his trousers and held it aloft genially. “Thank you, Daphne. Your job here is done now.”

The woman—Daphne, apparently—jolted beside Kim, like a beaten cat that didn’t know what sort of abuse would come next. Blinking, Kim suddenly realized that this unfortunate woman was most likely one of Rafael’s victims, forced to do his work for him. She wondered how long it had taken to place such terror in Daphne’s disbelieving eyes.

However, as the seconds ticked by with Rafael making no move to rescind his statement or his unsettling smile, a bit of hope crept into her face. Her lip quivered once.

“Th…that's it? I can go then?” Daphne’s voice trembled like her lips did, uncertain.

“By all means,” Rafael gestured towards the stairwell again, “just turn around and walk away slowly.”

Daphne stared at the psychopath for a second longer, hesitant. Then her left leg took one step backwards, her wary eyes watching Rafael for any disapproval. He gave none. As Kim kept switching her gaze from one person to the other as if watching a tennis match, Daphne finally exhaled shakily, whimpered once—a sort of desperate sound—and spun around.

“Oh, and Daphne,” Rafael added.

Daphne froze instantly. Kim was sure she didn’t even dare breathe.

“Make sure you don’t tell anyone anything about me,” he spoke the threat steadily, as if it was the most normal way to speak in the world, “Our time together was such a special thing. Best keep it private, yes?”

Daphne nodded frantically, not daring to face Rafael again. Kim caught sight of a shiny tear running down her cheek. A half second later, the woman broke into a dead run, arms flailing for all the world as if the fires of hell were licking at her toes.

Kim’s gaze remained fixed on the woman’s streaming ginger hair as she sprinted, heels clacking on the floor. She reached the stairwell and wrenched the door open.

_BANG!_

Kim jumped, her heart stuttering erratically at the sound. She turned, mouth agape, to see Rafael standing there, his right arm outstretched, smoking gun in hand. Kim immediately twirled back around, searching for the bullet’s victim.

Daphne had dropped to her knees, and from the distance Kim’s shocked eyes could not tell where she had been hit. She swayed, then—

 _BANG!_ Another shot ripped through the middle of the poor girl’s back and she collapsed forwards like a plank of wood, dead. Kim stared, speechless. It wasn’t until her eyes flickered to the spray of blood that had splattered on the door that she riled enough anger to turn back to Rafael.

“That was unnecessary. You didn't have to kill her!” Kim wanted to speak calmly, but only managed to hiss the accusation instead, the shock having made her throat dry as a desert.

Completely unruffled, Rafael simply shrugged a shoulder. “I told her to walk,” he said, stowing his gun, “And you know, Kimmie, I had kept her around long enough anyways. She fulfilled her job, and was getting rather dull lately.” Rafael gave a head signal to one of the guards to go take care of Daphne's body.

Kim watched them do so, her hatred for all of them overflowing. “So you just shot her?! She did what you wanted after you kidnapped her and you killed her anyways?”

Rafael gave her a perplexed look, “But she didn’t do what I told her to do. She ran.” Kim shut her mouth, fuming at the man as he continued, “Speaking of which, you did not keep to our agreement either. You were supposed to come alone.”

“I did,” Kim lied immediately. “It was _you_ who didn’t show up.”

Rafael barked out a scornful laugh, “Really now. My dear girl. My little, tiny robin…when I made the deal, I knew your little boyfriends would never have let you come alone. As you can see, I prepared for it.” He began to circle around Kim. “And indeed, there they were, sneaking in as waiters and celebrities.”

He came around to Kim’s left side, and suddenly stepped close. Kim saw his hand reaching for her handheld purse and leapt away, out of arm’s length. She clutched the sequined purse to her chest tightly, wrapping both hands around the money plates contained inside.

“Not quite, Rafael,” she spat his name like a curse—which only made him smirk in return, damn him!—and scanned the area quickly, “I did bring the items that you requested, but I’m not handing them over until I see what _I_ wanted.”

Rafael eyed Kim indulgently, smirk solidly in place, and then began pacing again, this time with his hands behind his back.

“Of course, darling,” he hedged softly. Kim resisted the urge to bite her lip. His tone gave nothing away and she couldn’t tell if he was lying or not.

Instead, she pitched her voice as softly as his, but with much more forcefulness, “Well then, where the hell is she? Let me see her first, and then you can have the plates.”

Rafael actually sighed, glancing at the ground in mock embarrassment, “You'll see her soon enough. I put her in a most wonderful dress.” The corner of his mouth lifted slightly at that, “But for now why don't we just put business aside and get to know each other better, yes?”

 _Sure, I’ll happily do that by killing you, you bastard!_ Kim narrowed her eyes, “Why would I ever want to get to know you?”

Rafael ignored Kim's question and went straight on to his, “Tell me, how is Derek doing? Has he recovered from his failure to protect his beloved wife?”

“Don't say my dad's name like you know him!” Kim shouted furiously at the mere mention of her mother.

Rafael burst out laughing, “Ooh yes! The anger, the passion that burns through your eyes…it makes a person so excited, the way that you are!” Thankfully, Kim was saved from hearing any more of his absurd opinions by a vibrating cell phone—his, by the look of consternation that crossed his face.

As he opened his jacket with one hand and reached into the inner pocket for the phone with the other, Kim quickly bent and snatched her Beretta 9mm from under her dress. Rafael’s gaze jerked back up towards her, only to come face to face with the muzzle of her gun. She clicked off the safety.

Injecting as much feeling as she could into the words, Kim said, “You. Disgust me. To the extreme, and you should know very damn well why I am the way I am.”

* * *

 

Having Kim catch him off guard was not on the agenda. His minions had also pulled out their own guns, aiming it at the gowned woman, but it wasn’t really the armed endangerment that annoyed him. No, it was the fact that Carlos’ call was interrupting the most delectable mind game of Rafael’s life.

 _What does that old geezer want?_ Rafael had ignored the phone called once before, and usually Carlos knew better than to disturb him when in the midst of an operation. _Emotionally slaved man,_ Rafael sneered mentally.

Eyeing Kim for a second longer, he forced a smile, “Just a moment, my little robin,” he clicked the call, “Can this wait? I'm a bit busy.” He ensured there was equal amounts venom and deference in his voice to please the man.

 _“Juancalos!”_ Carlos practically screamed in his ear, “ _There are cops breaking down the fuckin’ door! The F.B.I. is here!”_ Faint shooting sounds echoed in the background.

His boss’ declaration made him blink in mild shock. “What? But how can that be?” They’d been skirting in and out of the U.S.A. dozens of times in the last few years and the F.B.I. chose _now_ to close in on them? Did the C.I.A. give them some hints? Unlikely. Those two organizations hated working together.

Carlos was still yammering, _“We are relocating. Come back this instant!”_ Apparently he was trying to escape. Fine. Whatever made the coward happy. Honestly, he should have brought more hired hands instead of a couple of prostitutes.

“Alright, just make sure to take the girl with you as well since you wanted to keep her there so bad…,”Rafael paused as he glanced at Kim. Over her shoulder, he spotted a man dressed as a waiter slinking towards their area. Rafael locked eyes with the man, who immediately broke into a sprint, speeding towards Kim, the outline of a weapon in his hand.

“Someone's coming. Shoot him!” Rafael demanded his three guards, ending the phone call simultaneously. The guards obeyed his order and opened fire. The sneak returned the shots, leaping behind an AC unit for cover.

And, of course, his little robin also took that opportunity to shoot back. Unprepared, one of Rafael’s men took a bullet in the right flank, screamed as he fell, and remained still. _Damn it! Well, well, the plan is shit now._ As was his mind game—cut too short for his liking—since Kim was on the offensive. The fear that he had wanted to build up in her had burned up with her adrenaline. He could tell by her eyes. _Double damn!_

The remaining two guards aimed their guns as her now. Then again…he and his men still outnumbered Kim and her “waiter,” so if he could take the snitch out…maybe the game could be transferred to a better location.

“Move in on them!” He commanded, “Kill the guy, but I need the girl alive!”

Said guy chose that moment to come around the opposite side as his enemies and leap toward Kim, long body sailing through the air, calling, “Noona!” His guards fired. The shots echoed in the night.

The guy jerked as the bullets tore through him and he collapsed in a heap at Kim’s feet.

“ _No_!! Jong-up!” the girl screamed—a sweet sound, really—as she seized his arm, shaking it. Seeing the guy was unresponsive, she proceeded to drag him behind the AC unit again.

Rafael threw up a hand to halt his guards. In the sudden silence, he could hear Kim’s ragged breathing and half sobs as she no doubt tried to wake her friend. Rafael smiled. He pulled out his own gun and reloaded it leisurely.

“What will you do now, little robin?” he purred, his voice carrying across the space easily. “You came here for revenge as well as a trade—don’t deny it—yet here you are hiding.”

In the answering intense silence, his vibrating phone cut off whatever reply Kim was intent on not giving him. Rafael could have groaned aloud. But in the end could not do so because suddenly one of his guards yelled out and fell to his knee, one arm clutching the opposite shoulder.

A rain of bullets sped from another different direction and Rafael had to duck for his own hiding spot, cursing. “Shit! Take cover! Spread out!” he commanded. Peeking around, he could see that two more of Kimmie’s B.A.P. friends had managed to reach the Collosseum rooftop. Looked like this evening would require a little more…dirty work.

* * *

 

_A nondescript van on the Strip_

“Why haven’t we received any word?” Agent Casey asked the surveillance man. The team was settled in an unmarked van not far from Caesar’s Palace, ready at a moment’s notice to break up the party. They’d been waiting amidst the screens and computers and antennae for much too long, in Hampton’s opinion. Hearing that his undercover agent had not shown given the signal wasn’t really a surprise.

It still worried him nonetheless. Something had changed…or B.A.P. had discovered the agent’s identity. Either way, this was not good. He opened the van side door.

“You, Smith,” Agent Hampton addressed on of his underlings outside, who jumped to attention, “Take your squad and search the party and surrounding areas. Just figure out what’s going on, but do not engage with B.A.P. or Carlos unless our agent is there and gives the signal. Otherwise, our objectives are lost.”

Smith nodded and his team quickly moved away, setting their radios to the proper channels. Hampton watched their F.B.I.-labelled vests disappeared around the corner before rejoining his partner in the van. Casey was reviewing the footage with the techie again.

“There, that’s Kim Le headed outside with another woman. Find out who she is,” he instructed. Casey turned to Hampton then with a sigh. “I am tired of our plans going wrong.”

Hampton furrowed his brow but did not indulge in an echoing sigh. “Nothing new at this point, Casey. And if B.A.P. has left the party, at least we know the civilians are safe now.”

Agent Casey nodded, just as the door was wrenched open again. This time, Agent Kennedy’s head poked inside.

“I have some…news,” Kennedy announced. Hampton gestured for him to come inside. Once the door was secured, Kennedy turned to him. “Just got a call from Langley. Apparently, the F.B.I. just busted Carlos Rodriguez from a motel up in North Las Vegas.”

“What!” Casey exclaimed, “They got Rodriguez?”

Kennedy shook his head, “No, he escaped. Some of his guards were killed in the crossfire, though.”

“How did the F.B.I. obtain his location, that’s what I want to know,” Agent Hampton stated.

“The F.B.I. had a mole,” Kennedy paused to look significantly at Hampton, speculating again on Hampton’s spy, no doubt, then continued, “One of Rafael’s minions was actually an agent and was keeping tabs on him for the past year.”

“And they decided _now_ was the perfect time to apprehend him?” Casey asked incredulously, running a hand down his face, “Rafael is _here_ , as we know. What if Casey runs off without him and we lose him again?”

“No,” Hampton spoke up, “Carlos doesn’t yet have the plates. He’ll want them before he leaves, I’m sure of it.” Hampton bit his lip, thinking hard, and ignoring Kennedy’s musings on Rodriguez’s cowardice as he did so, “I’ve known him longer, Kennedy, and I know he’s going to be vying for those plates with all he’s got. He’s been working too long for them by now. No, I think this F.B.I. involvement could be a good thing. It shook him up, got him panicking. He’ll make mistakes, and we’ll definitely nab him then.”

* * *

 

_Colosseum Rooftop, Caesar’s Palace, Las Vegas, USA_

Kim immediately tore her hemline into long strips, trying to control her frantic thoughts. Setting Jong-up flat on the ground, she wound the strips tightly about Jong-up's upper thigh.

“Hang in there, Jong-up!” Kim ordered the younger boy as she cinched it closed. Ripping more cloth strips, she did the same for his left shoulder, were a bullet had only grazed him. When she was done, she looked back to see that her first bandage had completely soaked through, the dark red staining the lighter fabric profusely. “ _Fuck_!” Kim really knew very little about anatomy, but she did know that if Jong-up had been shot through an artery, he’d bleed out in minutes!

Hurriedly, she pressed both hands to the wound, lending her weight on it to desperately stop the bleeding. Jong-up groaned and his eyes flew open.

“Noona!” he exclaimed, his voice laced with pain.

“Jong-up! Oh thank god! Hang in there! Please! I’m trying to stop the bleeding but…” Kim shook her head, willing herself to not cry. “I…I…” She just didn’t know what to say to him.

Jong-up looked up at her uncomprehendingly, then, “I...I can't feel my leg...” Jong-up whimpered. His face scrunched up painfully again as he tried to shift up to look at his limb.

“No! Jong-up just lie down and be still, okay?” Kim pleaded.

Jong-up complied, wincing as he lay back down, then met her gaze. “Hyung…” he said between gritted teeth.

Of course! Kim realized she could hear Rafael’s guards yelling and shooting—which meant Yong-guk and Dae-hyun were here! She pulled the earpiece from Jong-up's ear and start yelling to it.

“Yong-guk, Jong-up's hit! We're taking cover behind an AC unit, past the antennas and the satellite disc. _Hurry!_ ”

“Copy! On my way.” Yong-guk’s disjointed voice answered. Kim heard he yell, “Cover me!” to Dae-hyun and a flurry of shots rang out. Kim leaned over Jong-up, hands still holding pressure, in case of ricocheting bullets.

 _“Kim! Are you ok? What the hell is going on over there? Should I send Young-jae to you guys?”_ Him-chan's voice burst through the earpiece.

“No!” Yong-guk replied before Kim could say anything, “Do not send Young-jae! We’ll have this under control anyway. It's alright Him-chan. Continue your _surveillance_ tasks as we planned.”

Just as he said that last word, Yong-guk came flying behind the AC unit, landing on the ground behind Kim. He rolled quickly to his knees. Dae-hyun took position near them behind a large satellite disc and continued cover fire.

“The bleeding won't stop!” Kim informed Yong-guk anxiously. “We need to get him to a hospital!” Yong-guk maneuvered himself next to his subordinate, eyes assessing the wounds.

“You need to tie the bandage above the entry site as well. Cutting off the blood supply will slow down the bleeding,” Yong-guk yanked the silk tie from his neck and proceeded to do just that. Kim couldn’t tell if it was working because her bandages were already soaked, so she quickly removed them and tore fresh strips from her dress.

“Rafael's escaping!” Dae-hyun suddenly hollered. “I killed one of the guards and I guess he doesn’t like the odds anymore!”

Kim looked up in a flash, “Oh no he’s _not_!” she growled. _Not again! Never again!!!_ She shoved the bandages in Yong-guk's hands. “I'm going after him. Take care of Jong-up.” She found her own gun and stood up, ready to run after Rafael, but Yong-guk grabbed her wrist.

“You're not going after him alone!” Yong-guk argued vehemently.

“Let go of my hand! You're wasting too much time. Rafael is near the stairway already and, Yong-guk, I am not letting him get away this time!” Kim yelled back, infusing her gaze with as much passion rage and determination as possible as she stared Yong-guk down. “I can _do_ this! No one deserves to kill this bastard more except me. Now. Let. Go!”

Yong-guk looked at her, stunned, and Kim used the opportunity to wrench her wrist free. Yong-guk scowled, “Fine! But take Jong-up's earpiece with you, for god’s sake.”

Kim nodded and shoved the gadget in her ear, immediately working to ignore Him-chan’s adamant protests about her going alone.

“We’ll cover you for now, but after this other guy’s dead and Jong-up and stable, we’re coming after you!” Yong-guk promised.

“That’s fine.” Kim checked her Beretta once, then raced in Rafael’s direction, death on her mind.

* * *

 

Kim finally caught up to Rafael as he barreled down the stairs at the back of the Colloseum. Rafael was running with his phone to his ear, mouth moving angrily. Kim couldn't make out what the guy was saying but that hardly mattered at the moment.

“Hey! Rafael!” She shouted.

Rafael turned his head half way around, spotting her quickly. The next moment, Kim was ducking as Rafael fired two shots up the stairwell. The bullets ricocheted off the walls, but didn’t hit her. Standing, she gave chase again.

Round and round they spiraled until the stairs ended on the first floor, right next to an exit door, the red light of the sign illuminating the area. Rafael pushed past it with one shoulder and disappeared outside.

Kim leaped over the last flight of stairs, thankful now that she had shortened her dress, and landed heavily on both feet. She ignored the jarring in her muscles and flung herself after the psychopath. The darkly lit alleyway behind the Collosseum met her, and a second later the gutter smells assaulted her nostrils.

To her left, the dull clack of Rafael’s shoes on the ground echoed. She turned that way just as the noise stopped. Cautiously, she walked forwards, gun held aloft. Five steps further on showed her why Rafael had stopped. The alley was a dead end this way.

He had run into it, unable to see the impasse due to the curvature of the Collosseum. Kim smiled grimly.

She stepped forwards.

 _Bang!_ A shot flew past her face, stirring her hair. Kim flung herself to the side and took cover between two large blue dumpsters, scrambling to a low crouch. She carefully glanced around the narrow area, adjusting her eyes to the single yellow light.

“What's the matter? Can't get enough of me? I'm touched,” Rafael unctuous voice taunted from the semi-darkness. “It's a shame we have to cut our meeting short. I would have loved to stay and fool around with you for a bit longer.”

Kim could hear Rafael's footstep getting closer. She inched backwards, further into the shadows and behind the dumpsters, moving around them. Once she was clear, she dashed, still crouched, to a doorway embedded a meter into the wall so that there was plenty of room for her to stand.

“But things got a little tangled up back at the motel with the boss, so I must end this quickly.” Rafael reached Kim's original hiding spot and paused, no doubt considering the Louis Vuitton shoes she had removed and left behind in favor of stealth.

“Hmph...What's wrong, my little robin? Why are you hiding now? Didn't you want to get my attention earlier? Look at me face-to-face, as you avenge your friends and family?” Rafael wheedled. He then kicked the dumpster violently. Kim’s whole body jolted from the sound, but she did not yell out.

“Now, now, don't be a scaredy cat.” There was a ring of agitation in his voice now. “As I said earlier, I don't have time to play hide and seek with you. So why don't you be a good girl and show yourself. Oh, and hand over the plates to me, yes?”

Kim blinked. _Oh…_ Well, that wasn’t an option, since she had forgotten her purse up on the rooftop anyway. Which left only the possibility of attack, because she’d be damned if she was going to run away after all this. No, she’d made a vow.

The plan her brain concocted in the next two seconds had a 50/50 chance of success, depending on Rafael’s position, but hey, Sin City wasn’t filled with casinos for nothing. She waited until Rafael was speaking again. _Here goes nothing!_

“You know, I had dreamed of you over the years occasionally, and I--”

Kim bounded from her hiding spot, gun already up and ready. To her luck, she spotted Rafael with his back facing her, his shoulders twitching as he started to turn around. Kim didn’t wait. Her fingers squeezed the trigger. Then again and again.

Rafael went down. Hard.

With her gun still raised at empty space, Kim reminded herself to breathe. What just happened? Did luck just favor her tonight? Did she just take Rafael down after all these long torturous years? She could hardly believe it! Her eyes dropped to the ground. _But there’s his body…and there’s his_ blood. The man’s back was still rising and falling, which meant he was still alive and breathing, but….

 _“Kim! Come in! What was that gunshot just now? Are you hit?”_ Him-chan voiced through her earpiece rapidly.

“N...no, Him-chan. I'm ok,” Kim finally spoke. She paused as he and the others expressed their relief. Then she said, “Sorry but I'm gonna turn of our communication for now. Would you let Yong-guk and Dae-hyun know my position? Thanks.”

_“What? No wai...”_

Kim yanked the device out and let it fall to the ground. Gun pointed ahead, both hands steadying it, she stepped slowly towards Rafael. With one bare foot, she kicked him onto his back. The bastard coughed up a spurt of blood with the motion, but opened his eyes to look at her.

“Ha...ha...Look at you...,” he struggled to speak. “Y...you got me...Impressive, my little—yargh!”

Kim stomped on Rafael’s fingers with her heel and knelt, looming over him. “I am _not_ your little robin, you bastard!” she hissed, fuming. She searched his bearded, angular face, drinking in the signs of pain etched in it, the color of the blood dribbling down his goatee. She sneered. “Well? How is it, Rafael? The feeling defeat? How do you feel now that you're actually the victim?”

Incredulously, Rafael cracked a faint smile, “Well, it sure s-sucks...but hey, at least it was you.”

With a growl of frustration, Kim shoved the muzzle of her gun into the open exit wound on Rafael’s chest, digging it in viciously. Rafael yelled out, of course, his entire body jerking as pain lanced through it. Kim let him cough a couple times before speaking.

“We...,” she paused, trying to choose the right words, trying to convey how much pure _disgust_ just being this close to him—if only to put an end to him—made her feel. “ _I_ don’t owe you a moment’s consideration.”

“Hah…but,” Rafael coughed, “I’ve gotten more than that, haven’t I? All these years, and you always thought of me, Kimmie.”

“Arrghhh!” Enraged, Kim wrenched the gun out of his chest and slugged him across the cheek with it. Then she whipped it across his face again in the opposite direction. She curled her other hand in a fist and wailed down on his head, his ears, his temples. At her mercy and he was _still_ playing mind games! It infuriated her!

“How fucking _dare_ you, you fucking _bastard!!!”_ she screamed, punctuating each word with a blow, “It was all. Your. Fault! Every single miserable, agonizing nightmare! Every humiliating therapy session!”

She was sitting on top of his chest now, heedless of the blood, heedless of anybody coming down the alley to investigate all the yelling she was doing. All she cared about was causing this man who ruined her life pain. He had to _hurt._ Had to pay! Finally she shoved his head to the side, grinding the skin into the grimy concrete below with her gun.

Huffing, she lowered her voice and seethed, “For all the pain you have caused me, you sick, messed-up excuse for a human being, you deserve _nothing_ from me. Nothing…but _agony_ in return. And I’m going to give it to you, Rafael.”

Rafael’s face was swelling up already, cuts criss-crossing his face and purplish bruising welling up around his right eye socket, yet he still managed a tiny smirk, the split muscle pulling the corner of his mouth up gruesomely.

“That’s right,” he said, surprising her, “That’s— _cough_ —fair. It’s a dog-eat-dog world, Kimmie…and— _cough—_ in the end, you’d be— _cough, hack—_ better off if you were…,” Rafael paused and slowly rotated his head to look straight at her, sliding her gun away with whatever strength he had left. Kim searched his eyes, but there was no regret in his face, no apology, no more emotion than if he were discussing the weather. _What the fuck is_ wrong _with him?!_

“…if you were just like me,” he finished.

Kim froze, eyes widening.

She felt like a tub of ice water had just been dumped on her head, the cold sliding down her spine and her limbs. _Oh my god…_ Kim’s mind flung the man’s damning words around in her head as she continued staring down at him. She took in the damage she had caused, from his face, to his hand, to the congealing mess in his chest.

She had been…enjoying it. Holy shit, she’d wanted to string him up and keep him alive until all her anger had been spent. It was….she swallowed. _What have I done to myself?_

Below her, Rafael opened his mouth to speak again.

Leaning back, Kim sat up straight, set her gun under the man’s chin, and fired.

Blood splattered instantly, some spots flinging up onto her own face, but most of it spread all around the back of Rafael’s head like a fallen angel’s halo. It was macabre, but Kim didn’t really notice. She just stared at the man’s eyes until the light disappeared from them, fading away as if sinking into the depths of an abyss.

She waited a beat, just to absorb the irrefutable fact that he was finally dead into her bones, and then…then she closed her eyes, bowed her head, and cried.

* * *

 

Yong-guk found Kim kneeling on the ground behind the Colloseum. Her shoulders were shaking slightly and Yong-guk could hear the faint sounds of quiet sobbing. He stopped a few inches from his friend and observed the situation beyond. Rafael lay on the ground, lifeless eyes staring into the night sky, whatever remain of his brain tissue leaking from the hole in his head.

The gore did not faze him; no, the fact that made him sigh in relief was Kim’s well-being. She seemed uninjured. Well, at least, physically. Slowly, Yong-guk knelt down beside Kim and reached out a hand. Firmly, he grasped her gun and pulled it away. She gave no resistance, only bringing the free palm to wipe her eyes, smearing eyeliner across her face. She looked up afterwards, met his eyes, then leaned forward.

Yong-guk returned her embrace with a tight hug of his own, making nonsense soothing noises now and again.

“She’s OK,” he relayed to the rest of B.A.P., mostly because Him-chan had not stopped asking what the fuck had happened and how was Kim and whatnot since he’d reached the alleyway. “Are you hurt?” He asked Kim then, as a confirmation.

“No.”

“Good,” Yong-guk acknowledged softly, then, “You did it. You killed him.” The two of them stayed a moment in significant silence. “Very well done,” he said as he settled his hand over her head. Kim looked up and smiled gently. Her eyes still glistened with moisture, but she looked…lighter. She was kneeling on the dirty ground, her dress ripped, hair askew, but none of that seemed to matter for her.

Yong-guk smiled back just as the thrum of a vibrating phone startled them both. Yong-guk turned his head and finally honed in on the sound. It was coming from Rafael's other hand. Warily, he reached down and took the call.

 _“Rafael! What the hell happened? I told you to come back immediately!”_ a harsh, panicked voice shouted the moment he picked up. Yong-guk could not stop the grin from spreading on his lips.

“Oh, hey. Rafael can't take your call right now, _Carlos_ ,” he drew out the man’s name smugly, “He's dead.”

There was a fearful pause on the other line. Well, Yong-guk assumed there was a pause, because when Kim heard the caller’s name, she yanked the phone away from Yong-guk’s ear and thumbed the speaker function on. Rodriguez’s voice immediately filtered through loud and clear.

 _“So what? You think you're hot shit now that you killed my most trusted man?”_ Yong-guk refrained from saying that, yea, he most certainly did think Kim was the shit for managing to take down Rafael. Of course, then Rodriguez kept talking. _“You’re nothing! Don't forget I still have your little friend here.”_

“And _we_ still have your precious little plates over here,” Yong-guk answered in kind, “The deal should have been done by now, you know. So much for Rafael being your most trusted.”

Rodriguez paused. _“I kept the girl so he would have to negotiate a meeting place that_ I _approved of,”_ the man explained, sounding frazzled. Was the man on the run or something? That worried Yong-guk a bit, but then again Rodriguez wanted the plates, so he couldn’t exactly leave. If he did, and B.A.P. had to haul ass trying to find him again, Yong-guk (and T.S.) was going to be severely pissed. Course, then it occurred to Yong-guk that since he had Rodriguez on the phone now, he would have a say in the upcoming negotiation Round Two.

Yong-guk took just one more second to consider any alternatives, then nodded condescendingly to the man, even though Carlos couldn’t see him, “Well, what do you say, Rodriguez? Would you care to enter in a trade?”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yea...he's D-E-D, dead.  
> How do you feel?  
> \--C.
> 
> P.S. In the next chapter, there's a certain CIA mole identity that comes to light. Given that climax, if you are interested, we've set up a little poll, just to see who's in the hot seat. Here it is: http://poll.pollcode.com/88715826   
> Copy and paste as you like. It's just for fun.


	38. The Trade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter where the CIA spy will be revealed. However, we would like to ask you not to mention the spy's name or identity in the comment section for the sake of the new readers that will be joining us in the future :) We thank you for your cooperation and your loyalty for sticking with our story until now. Please stay tuned for the intriguing and thrilling upcoming finale :)
> 
> Love,
> 
> The ZeroGravity Team

 

***** Last week we had placed a poll for you to vote who'd you think the spy is...well, here are the results. Let's see if you guys were right, shall we?**

~~{ }~~

Carlos Rodriguez grunted to himself, lighting up another cigarette with agitated fingers. Those arrogant kids were seriously getting out of hand. Spoiled by T.S. all these years. None of them had ever had to make their own mark in the criminal realm. Not like him. Yet here he was, headed to a meeting with them, as if between fucking equals!

Carlos was tempted to rip this bitch of a hostage into pieces and bring her body parts to the exchange instead. Just to antagonize the shit out of them for making a fool out of _him_. And for killing the best employee he had ever recruited. Rafael had been more useful than any of those B.A.P. brats no matter how T.S. went on and on about his pet projects.

Carlos had found Rafael slicing up a cat in an alleyway one day. When asked, Rafael had simply said that it was practice for his real victim. At first, Carlos had thought him a homeless loon, but had kept tabs on the man out of curiosity. Sure enough, the man’s ex-wife was brutally murdered and chopped into cubes not three days later. Carlos had given him a job not twenty-four hours afterward.

And now Rafael had gotten himself killed by a bunch of kids that couldn't wipe the snot off their noses. Even better, he had been careless enough to have an F.B.I. spy as one of his guards! _I overestimated you, Rafael. In the end you were just as good as the dull end of a knife._

Carlos exhaled a cloud of thick smoke more roughly than he intended, and glanced at his remaining two bodyguards. The rest of his men had all been captured earlier that night. Apparently the so-called prostitute trainer that Rodriguez had brought with him was found strangled by one of the girl’s belts in the motel’s men’s bathroom. The two prostitutes had then fled the building, right into the waiting arms of the F.B.I. dogs. How long they had been watching Rafael or him, Carlos couldn't say, but one thing he knew for sure was that there must have been a F.B.I. man undercover—one that even Rafael hadn’t sniffed out. Killing that pimp had probably been the signal for the rest of the team to move in.

“How did things get so messy?” Carlos whispered to himself. He felt eyes on him, and looked up. That girl, Samantha or whatever—the only other person who had escaped/been taken with him and his bodyguard—was glaring at him unsympathetically.

“What are you looking at, bitch?” Her presence aggravated him, and at the moment, the cigarette wasn’t doing enough to calm him so he reached out and slapped her. “Don't get too full of yourself now that your friends are on their way to get you. You're still in my hands. I could do whatever the hell I want with you if you don't behave.” The girl only hugs her arms and eyed the guards on either side of her. Carlos took another drag.

Then the girl returned her gaze to him. “You’ve lost, you know, even though you managed to escape the F.B.I. Even if you got what you’re longing for, do you think you can escape the American authorities that easily?”

“Don’t presume you know me, bitch! I have evaded your precious authorities for years and damaged them in ways they will never forget. They used to fear me!”

“And now they don’t, and you know it, because you’re running away desperate. You should probably turn yourself in,” she suggested.

The words cut deep. The girl was right. Years on the run and _now_ the F.B.I. and C.I.A. were nipping at his heels just he was on the verge of getting everything back. Eyes narrowing with irritation, Carlos refrained from slapping the woman again and instead, reached inside his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief. He threw it to the first guard and gestured sharply. The man quickly wound it around the girl’s mouth, gagging her, and Carlos looked on with satisfaction. “You have a sharp tongue. I wouldn't mind cutting it off and send it to your friends as a parting gift.”

Instead of flinching from his threat, Samantha threw her head back and her legs up, trying to kick him, he assumed. She missed, of course, though the motion disrupted him enough that the cigarette dropped from his fingers. Furious, Carlos rotated one of the rings on his hand inwards towards his palm, and raised his hand intent on slapping the bitch again when one of his guards spoke up.

“Boss. We're here.”

Carlos glanced out the window at the large decrepit building. The Sahara Casino had once been one of the mighty back in the day. He’d been there a few times himself. Looked up at the huge Moroccan-styled dome and wasted drunk hours in the Congo Room. However, unlike the Flamingo, the Sahara did not last long pitted against the newer Strip, that is, the MGM, Cosmopolitan, Planet Hollywood, and the like. They had gone bankrupt and closed back in 2011.

Plans were in the works for a complete renovation by SBE, the intention on renaming the casino and relaunching it sometime in 2014. However, presently, the building was abandoned, the demolition barely begun. Carlos had to agree with B.A.P.’s arrogant leader; this place was an ideal spot.

Carlos pulled Samantha roughly out of the car, then shoved her to his two guards after they’d gotten out as well. The four of them then walked towards the abandoned building, four shadows in the gloom. He looked at his watch to check the time. It was fifteen past midnight now. Those idiotic assholes better be on their way here.

* * *

 

_Colloseum back alleyway_

Yong-guk helped Kim to her feet slowly, hands underneath her shoulders. Kim slumped a little leaning on him for leverage but eventually steadied herself and let go. Yong-guk surveyed her critically.

“Where are your shoes?” he blurted.

“I...think I left them behind the dumpster over there. Had to use them to distract Rafael,” Kim answered in a tremulous voice. She was shivering now, whether from the cold air, the ripped dress, or the loss of adrenaline, Yong-guk couldn’t tell. Maybe all three.

Yong-guk sighed, feeling somewhat responsible for putting Kim through this. After all, he had promised Derek that he'd be there with her when she confronted Rafael. Not that she really needed him in the end, but no matter the satisfaction Kim obtained, her nightmares weren’t going to disappear instantly. Especially if they didn’t get Samantha back. _Dammit,_ Yong-guk groused to himself.

He took off his vest jacket and laid it over Kim's shoulders. Then he wove an arm behind her knees and easily picked her up.

“Wha...Yong-guk!” Kim protested predictably.

“It's all right. You can't walk barefoot like that plus I doubt that you'll be able to at the moment without tripping over yourself like a baby,” Yong-guk answered, starting towards the main street.

Kim did not reply. He assumed that she knew he was right but didn’t want to admit it. Stubborn. Yong-guk smiled on the inside. _It would be nice if she behaved like this all the time. That would save me a lot of energy arguing back and forth with her in the daily basis._

“Wipe that stupid grin off your face, dumb-ass. There won't be a next time to this,” Kim mumbled. Oops. She was either a mind reader or Yong-guk actually did smile. He sighed, _Oh well...a guy can dream._ Nevertheless, he swore he saw Kim blush.

* * *

 

Yong-guk found Dae-hyun and Jong-up waiting at the end of the alleyway. Dae-hyun had one of Jong-up's arms slung over his shoulder, assisting the poor boy to stand. Jong-up’s bandaged thigh was bleeding again after trying to walk, no doubt.

After Kim had ran off in pursuit of Rafael, it did not take long for Dae-hyun and Yong-guk to finish off the other two guards. Dae-hyun had regretted not leaving one alive to demand Sam’s whereabouts, but in the end put it aside in order to take care of Jong-up while Yong-guk searched for Kim. Unfortunately, Yong-guk would have to tell Dae-hyun that Carlos had Sam now.

“Hyung!” Dae-hyun yelled to them the moment he saw them round the corner, “Oh my god, is Noona hurt, too?”

“No, she's fine. Just a bit overwhelmed,” Yong-guk answered.

Dae-hyun eyed Kim's torn, bloody dress and shoeless feet. “And...Rafael?” he inquired.

Yong-guk smirked and nodded at Kim.

“He's finished,” Kim answered firmly.

“He's dead?” Dae-hyun asked, eyebrows rising, “Impressive, Noona,” he praised, “What about Samantha? Did Rafael tell you where he kept her?”

“He didn’t bring her here,” Yong-guk informed him.

“What? That bastard showed up without intending to trade at all?!” Dae-hyun exclaimed, affronted. Jong-up grunted at the moment and Dae-hyun stilled, sending him an apologetic look.

Yong-guk spoke up, “But we talked to Carlos from Rafael’s phone. I arranged where the trade-off is going to take place.” Dae-hyun didn’t look half as relieved as he ought, Yong-guk thought, but then again, he probably wouldn’t be until Sam was secure.

At that moment, a black SUV pulled up beside them, Him-chan in the driver’s seat and Young-jae next to him. Him-chan practically leaped from the car the instant it was parked.

“Kim! Yong-guk!” Him-chan hurried over, hands almost fluttering about but not quite daring to touch Kim’s body, “Are you injured?” he met Kim’s eyes anxiously. Kim returned his gaze warmly, relief apparent in her expression so Yong-guk put her down. No doubt there was going to be hugging of some kind soon.

“Whoa! Jong-up!” Yong-guk jerked around just in time to see Jong-up lose consciousness and tumble on to Dae-hyun, who had cried out. Yong-guk immediately stepped forward, but Young-jae beat him there, yanking the younger man upwards, then helping Dae-hyun lower him to the ground.

“Shit, Dae-hyun, I thought you guys bandaged him up!” Young-jae said.

“I know, but he’s still lost a lot of blood once we got moving. C’mon, help me get him inside the car.” Together, Dae-hyun and Young-jae hauled Jong-up up by the shoulders. Yong-guk grabbed his legs and they all maneuvered him into the vehicle.

“Hang in there, buddy,” Young-jae reassured worthlessly—because, obviously, Jong-up couldn’t hear him—as he climbed into the back seat as well. The rest of them piled in the SUV and Him-chan quickly started driving back to the Golden Dream Casino.

“So what's the plan now Yong-guk?” Him-chan asked quietly, eyes focused on the road and bright lights zooming by.

Loath as he was to discuss anything close to planning with Young-jae present, Yong-guk did think some spoken directions would help everyone’s nerves, including his. “First off, we need to drop Jong-up off with Zelo. Kim, can you ask Steve to arrange for a doctor ASAP?” Yong-guk turned around to see Kim nod.

“Yes,” She answered, pulling out her cell phone from her purse.

“The rest of us will have to go to the trade-off location,” Yong-guk continued. Him-chan glanced at him, a look of urgency in his eye before returning his gaze to the road.

“What if it's a tr--?” Him-chan began.

Yong-guk cut in quickly, “We will discuss details once we return to the room.”

“But you definitely think Sam will be there this time, Hyung?” Dae-hyun apparently didn’t want to wait to discuss this later. Yong-guk sighed, reminding himself to chug an energy drink when he got back.

“Yes. Judging from the conversation I had with him earlier, Rodriguez is desperate. I doubt he'd want to take a risk now that his right-hand man is dead. He'd have no one to fall back on. He wants the plates back and then he’ll disappear as well as he can,” Yong-guk reasoned.

There was a brief pause while the others thought it through, but in the end, no one offered a different hypothesis. They may not have wanted to. Kim had a lot to digest already with Rafael’s death on her mind as well as Sam’s safety. Dae-hyun was clearly focused on the girl as well. Jong-up was out for now and did not look in any shape to participate, and Him-chan and Yong-guk had to come up with some sort of plan as soon as possible.

“Well, let’s hope that you're right, Hyung,” Dae-hyun agreed.

* * *

 

_Presidential Suite, Golden Dream Casino_

True to his word on the phone, Steve greeted the gang upon their return. He quickly escorted them back to the suite, then introduced an ER doctor he kept on call for VIP guests. Wisely, the doctor did not ask any questions and just got down to work addressing Jong-up’s wounds. He inquired about Jong-up’s general medical history such as allergies and the like, but no further, which pleased Yong-guk. It’d be one less thing he had to worry about at the moment.

Dae-hyun and Young-jae were preoccupied with assisting the doctor so Yong-guk went to his room, catching Him-chan’s eye as he went. His second-in-command nodded back.

 _Okay, let’s clear the mind, now. Think!_ Yong-guk usually did not feel so frazzled in the midst of a mission, but this one, naturally, was an exception. T.S. expected him to have every point taken care of, and to have Rodriguez out of their business once and for all when everything was over. Yong-guk could do it, he was certain, but already things were out of control. Samantha’s hostage situation, Kim’s involvement and hand in Rafael’s death, the CIA spy, and now Jong-up’s critical injury…. He had been lucky, really, to have Carlos call right at that exact moment.

The door opened behind him to reveal Him-chan entering, a frown on his face. Yong-guk had no doubt his face looked much the same.

“I sent Kim off for a quick shower,” he said, exhaling. “Fuck, Yong-guk. When I saw her and the blood splattered on her face….”

“Yea, I know,” Yong-guk echoed his sigh, throwing his jacket and tie on the bed carelessly. It was time to get out of this stuffy ensemble.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” Him-chan went on, as he crossed the room to look out the window. Yong-guk pondered his answer for moment as he unbuttoned his shirt cuffs.

“Eventually,” he finally said, “Kim will need to…adjust to it. The man fucked up her life. Killing him goes a long way in helping her but…” He paused to pull a new charcoal colored shirt over his head.

“But, Kim needs more help than that, I know. Her nightmares will probably take a long time to fade,” Him-chan finished for him.

“Exactly. And what won’t help is if we can’t get her friend back alive as well.”

“Rescuing Sam is contingent on whether this trade-off runs without a hitch.”

“It will. I’ll assure it,” Yong-guk averred. He dug through his bag for his favorite folding knife, a tanto point Gerber FAST Draw. It easily clicked open with one hand and slid through flesh like butter.

“You assure it?” Him-chan queried, turning back to face him, “How will you assure it precisely? With that knife? I’m concerned that you don’t think your gun is good enough for this upcoming meeting.”

“Just preparing for all the possibilities, Him-chan. T.S. wants this mission done with. And if that means I have to stop one of our own from messing it up, I will.” Yong-guk slid the knife into his pants pocket after inspecting the three-inch blade for nicks.

Him-chan walked up to him, “About that, Yong-guk. I…I don’t Young-jae is a spy. He can’t be.”

Yong-guk glanced at him sharply. “You have proof of this?”

Obviously not, because Him-chan looked to the side fretfully and crossed his arms. “He’s…he’s still the same Young-jae. The way he speaks, acts, jokes around improperly. You really think he could lie to us when we know him so well?”

Yong-guk felt his eyebrows rise. “Do we though? Do we really know who he is? No, we can’t discard the fact that he could have been lying to us for years. Don’t brush this off, Him-chan. I know that look. But we have to consider it, as much as we don’t want to.” And Yong-guk _truly_ did not want to. It would be like a little brother decided to stab him in the back.

“So you’re gonna stab him in the back with a knife?” Him-chan unknowingly echoed. “Before he even does anything? Even you wouldn’t do that, Yong-guk. Not to one of us.”

Yong-guk scowled, and starting pacing. “That’s just it, Him-chan. I _think_ he might have done something already.”

“What? Like what?”

“I found him digging through my stuff before the party at Caesar’s.”

“So? Did he give a reason?”

“It was a lame one,” Yong-guk went on before Him-chan could argue, “And before that, Zelo found Young-jae’s ID on our security system back at the safehouse.”

“Young-jae accessed it? He hates that stuff.”

“But he’s not a complete idiot with computers,” Yong-guk pointed out.

“That’s true,” Him-chan conceded, “However, we can’t go pinning everything on Young-jae, you know.”

A knock sounded at the door just as Him-chan finished speaking and Zelo poked his head into the room. “Hyungs?”

“Yes, Zelo, what you got?” Yong-guk waved the youngest B.A.P. member in. Zelo entered with a small stack of papers in one hand.

“Some of the reports you wanted,” he replied, holding them out.

“You’re done already?” Yong-guk took the papers and leafed through them briefly. Most were timeline sheets, locations the person had been, following by a paragraph or two about their known origins.

“No, not yet. I didn’t have enough time what with all that went on during the mission,” Zelo answered, “That’s only the main stats. However, I did finish with Kim and Jong-up’s background info.”

“And?”

Zelo paused, but ultimately just said, “They’re both clean.” Yong-guk breathed a quick sigh of relief, if only to have a couple confirmations done. Zelo continued, lowering his voice to a whisper, “Some of the others have quite a bit of history...like Him-chan hyung for instance.” Just like that, the uneasy feelings returned. Yong-guk wanted to ask Zelo to elaborate the details on that last bit, but Zelo went on, “Let me do a little more digging. I'll text you the conclusions as soon as I can.”

Yong-guk sighed, “Yes. Please do.”

Zelo nodded and left. Yong-guk proceeded to the desk and laid the papers down, intending to skim through them when he felt Him-chan sidle up beside him. Yong-guk knew the moment Him-chan’s muscles tensed that there was a problem.

“You had Zelo run a background check on me, too?” Him-chan’s voice sounded oddly offended.

“You shouldn’t be surprised. I told you; I have to be thorough. T.S. would want to know anyway even if this mission wasn’t riding on the knowledge of who’s working for the C.I.A.” Yong-guk thought he had made that clear.

Him-chan was still giving him a strange look. “Then…why the hell are you talking to me about this at all?” he finally burst out indignantly.

Yong-guk frowned, confused, “What are you going on about? You’re my second-in-command. I always discuss my ideas with you.”

“But if you thought I was the mole—“

“I never really did, okay? I was just being thorough.”

“That’s bullshit, Yong-guk,” Him-chan hissed in that angry, but somehow still quiet, voice of his, “I know you told Zelo to check everyone, but honestly, we’re running low on time right now. Checking on every single B.A.P. member isn’t pertinent.”

“Yes, it is!” Yong-guk contested, struggling to hold his temper. It was so seldom that he and Him-chan did not see eye-to-eye; when they did argue, Yong-guk tended to be more defensive than necessary. It was a quality about him that he hated, so he said, “I can’t let how I may or may not feel about you guys affect what I do. T.S. says that being a leader is about making and doing all the hard decisions. That means I have to leave emotion out of it.”

“Like you did when you tortured Gonzalez to death?” Him-chan rejoined.

Yong-guk narrowed his eyes, “Meaning?”

Him-chan’s direct gaze did not waver. “Meaning…that I know you shut down whenever you think you’re personifying all the virtues T.S. has told you about being a leader, Yong-guk.” He was talking about the cold, Yong-guk realized. It was the cold rush of power that Yong-guk embraced during the most trying moments of being B.A.P.’s leader. It was necessary; Him-chan just didn’t get that part. “It can be useful during torture and the like, but you’ve gone overboard before, and to use it against your own team…that’s pretty harsh, Yong-guk.”

“It’s necessary.”

“Because T.S. told you so.”

“And he’s right.” Yong-guk and Him-chan stared at each for a couple of double-edged seconds. It was one of those moments when either person had to decide to continue disagreeing or not. Yong-guk didn’t really know why Him-chan was so angry in the first place!

Him-chan looked away first.

“I really don’t think you should take everything T.S. tells you to heart, Yong-guk,” Him-chan finally said, calmer than before, “You suspect Young-jae, clearly. Fine. But let’s not act rashly.”

Yong-guk wanted to refuse. He did. But Him-chan’s urging did make sense. “Fine. We need him with us anyway in case Carlos’ group outnumbers us,” Yong-guk conceded, “But the minute he does something suspicious, I’m going to…do something about it.” Okay, so that wasn’t exactly the best threat he’d ever made, but honestly, Yong-guk didn’t actually know what he would do if Young-jae turned out to be the spy. Could he follow through and kill him right there? Yong-guk shook his head slightly. _Whatever. I’ll deal with it if I have to. I have what it takes._ “Speaking of group numbers, Kim’s coming with us, too.”

Him-chan tensed up yet again. “What? Yong-guk, don’t you think she’s been through enough tonight?”

Yong-guk finished gathering his gear and slid into more comfortable black boots. He headed towards the door, talking as he went, “Yea, but if you think she’s going to listen to us and stay here while we go rescue her best friend…well, I’ll let you do the persuading, if you’re so good at it.”

He heard Him-chan sighing behind him. _Yep, about this he knows I’m right._

Him-chan eventually caught up to him as they entered the living room. Zelo was busy running earpiece checks with everyone, giving Kim Jong-up’s since she had “heedlessly taken hers for a swim.” Yong-guk saw Kim muster up a smile for that joke.

After checking on Jong-up, who was stable for now and will be on the mend in no time, according to the doctor, Yong-guk did one final check, outlined the objectives, and together, the five of them headed north to the rendezvous.

* * *

 

_Former Sahara Casino and Resort, Las Vegas, Nevada, USA_

They arrived at exactly 1:00 a.m. Dae-hyun noticed a car already parked at the main entrance and felt his heart speed up a bit. He was so close to getting Samantha back now. Part of him was worried what they might have done to her all this time, and planned revenge appropriately. The other part could only think of wrapping her in his arms and running far away where she could never be hurt again. _But wouldn’t that mean I’d have to leave her, too? She’d always be in danger hanging around me._ Dae-hyun took a moment to glance at Kim. She returned his gaze and nodded at him, determination etched in every line of her face. Dae-hyun’s jaw firmed. _Right. No time for doubts. Let’s do this._

He stepped out of the SUV, hands checking the location of his weapons: a Smith and Weston P9 was tucked in the small of his back, a Glock 20 rested in its holster on his left hip. He also had a couple knives in his boots, but he didn’t really think he’d use them.

As he breathed in the night air, his eyes scanned the area for possible ambushes. Nothing jumped out of the darkness. The Sahara was a run-down place. Abandoned for the most part, though it looked like the demolition team had laid down some start to the dismantling of the dome. Half of it was already missing, the once-white metal curving around empty space.

The strangest aspect was the lack of light. Whereas every other casino for blocks out had signs and lights announcing every which entertainment, the Sahara stood in its own grey pool, shadows cast by the moonlight the only thing differentiating doors from walls.

The gang wasted no time walking through the main entrance. Inside was even darker, though the large upper windows did allow some street lights to illuminate the lobby area. Tall columns ran the length of the space, some still sporting their old Morroccan tassels. The carpet had been ripped up, revealing hard concrete, and scattered about lay demolition machines, half-filled trash bins, brooms, and rubble.

“You're late!” A man’s voiced called out irately.

Dae-hyun fixed his stare straight ahead and spotted a tall slip of a man in business casual clothes standing in their path, fists balled at his sides. Only two guards stood behind Rodriguez, Samantha held tightly between them. Dae-hyun could not have torn his gaze away from Samantha if he tried. She was alive. Thin, as if she had lost a lot of weight, but alive nonetheless. She looked so pale and worn out like a fragile china doll with torn shorts and tank top that someone had thrown out in the trash. He tried to catch her eyes, but Sam hung her head forward, staring at the ground in silence. Her tangled hair blocked her face. Dae-hyun wanted to call out to her, and indeed was just about to—screw Rodriguez—but was halted by Him-chan.

“Relax, Dae-hyun,” Him-chan whispered, “You have to remain calm. Your anxiety only heightens theirs and that can only be a bad thing for Sam’s safety.”

Dae-hyun closed his eyes and acquiesced. He took in a deep breath and let it out softly. When he opened his eyes again, his vision was sharper, and his heart didn’t race as badly. He nodded a small thanks to Him-chan and returned his attention to Yong-guk, who was answering Rodriguez’s accusation.

“Are we? I thought I told you we'd be here around 1:00 a.m.,” Yong-guk replied, all nonchalance.

Carlos frowned at his attitude, clearly annoyed by it, but just said, “It doesn't matter now.” He reached behind and yanked Samantha forward by one arm. Her cry of pain at the man’s bruising grip was muffled by a gag, Dae-hyun finally saw. Rodriguez didn’t care, of course, and just maneuvered her in front of him, raising a gun to her right temple. The drawn weapon made Sam look up, startled, and she instantly saw Dae-hyun. Her eyes widened with hope and she stepped forward instinctively. Rodriguez yanked her back again, yelling to Yong-guk, “Did you bring the plates?”

Yong-guk merely snorted. He swung a monochrome slim case into view that he’d been holding in his right hand. “Sure did. They’re right in here.”

Carlos eyes honed in on the case hungrily. He immediately extended his empty hand out, “Give them over quickly or I blow a hole in this bitch's head.” He shoved the gun’s muzzle roughly into Sam’s face, making her whimper and shy away. As she turned, Dae-hyun caught a glimpse of a red mark on her cheek, round and scabbed over, like someone had slapped her with a ringed finger.

His hatred for Rodriguez kicked up a notch, and he bit his tongue, hard, in order to keep his mouth shut. He’d start cursing endlessly otherwise.

“Don't you dare touch a fucking single hair on her, Rodriguez!” Kim shrieked, drawing her own gun and aiming it in the man’s direction. _What? How come Kim gets to shout things and I don’t?_ Dae-hyun thought, as Carlos angled his gun towards Kim.

“Alright, okay. Everyone calm down,” Yong-guk chimed in, stepping forwards, both hands raised out horizontally in front of his chest. “Why don't we settle this with the old-fashioned American trade off, yes?” Both Kim and Rodriguez seemed ready to explode into violence, but in the end, both lowered their guns. Yong-guk continued, his voice ringing loud and clear, “I will bring the plates over to you at the same time that you send Samantha on her way over to our side, sound fair?” Yong-guk suggested.

“Fair? If you pull anything funny, I'll fuckin’ shoot her!” Carlos warned.

“Alright then. We won’t,” Yong-guk agreed smoothly.

Carlos thought it over for a moment, then added some rules, “Keep both of your hands up while you walk. No one touches the girl until I have verified the plates inside that case. In fact,” he smirked, “How about we do it this way: I send out the bitch, you give her the plates, she’ll deliver them to me, and _then,_ I’ll set her free and we’ll go on our separate ways.”

Dae-hyun saw Yong-guk’s eyes narrow, probably annoyed that Rodriguez saw through his initial plan. B.A.P. had done trades like this before, and having the hostage walk to them was the optimal method. Anyone could pull her to safety once she was far enough away from Carlos and his men. Meanwhile, the one who delivered the goods could fight their way out with cover fire from behind.

 _Damn Rodriguez for figuring it out_ . “My guards will start shooting if you don’t comply,” Carlos advised, when Yong-guk hesitated. At this, his guards each drew out a gun, one of which was actually a rifle. _Fuck._

“We’ll comply,” Yong-guk answered. He held up both hands and stepped forward. Dae-hyun arm seemed to jerk forward of its own volition and grabbed Yong-guk’s elbow. He blinked at his hand, then at Yong-guk, who had turned to him, surprised. His eyes searched Dae-hyun’s. There was…something suspicious in them, but before Dae-hyun could ponder it further, his mouth caught up to his actions.

“Hyung, let me do it instead,” he blurted.

Yong-guk turned around fully, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Dae-hyun answered resolutely. The moment he had seen that rifle, flashes of Sam’s body shredded by its bullets had appeared in his mind, and he’d panicked. “I’ll give him the plates, but I also want to ensure Sam doesn’t end up like that hostage in Jakarta.” Because, Dae-hyun recalled, that particular hostage had been beheaded by a scimitar the moment he had brought the ransom jewels back to his captor. Dae-hyun remembered it because B.A.P. had been doing surveillance on that group at the time. T.S. had been backing the kidnappers, yes, but Dae-hyun hadn’t known that the group intended to kill their hostage all along. Dae-hyun had only been sixteen at the time, and it had been a learning moment on how backstabbing truly worked.

Yong-guk raised an eyebrow, pensive. Strangely, his gaze darted behind Dae-hyun—at Him-chan, Kim, or Young-jae, Dae-hyun didn’t turn his head to find out who—then returned to Dae-hyun. With a quick breath and a nod, he handed the plates over and stepped aside without speaking further. If Yong-guk really understood Dae-hyun’s emotions about Sam, he didn’t take the time to taunt him about it, for which Dae-hyun was grateful.

Dae-hyun reached out and grabbed the plates, and, turning to Carlos, raised both hands and advanced forward.

* * *

 

Yong-guk watched closely as Carlos unwound the gag from Samantha’s face, then pushed her forward with his gun still aimed at her back. He growled some warnings at her, but Yong-guk didn’t bother listening to what he said. The trade was underway; that’s what was important. Dae-hyun and Sam would meet each other in the middle of the open space.

Dae-hyun had startled him badly when he’d grabbed his arm a moment ago. Yong-guk had only calmed when he turned and saw it wasn’t Young-jae. In fact, he was only trusting Dae-hyun right now because he’d received a text from Zelo as they stepped into the Sahara. It had read: _HC and DH are clear,_ followed by a pdf attachment of the research he’d found.

It was not like he had truly suspected those two in the first place, no matter how incensed Him-chan had been earlier. No, the one he was most anxious to hear about was…. He shifted his gaze to the punk-styled B.A.P. member standing ahead and to his left. After Yong-guk had relinquished the plates to Dae-hyun, he’d backed up so that he stood at the rear, near Kim. Him-chan stood slightly in front of Kim, shielding her, as he was wont to do.

Young-jae stood in front, watching Dae-hyun with uncharacteristic focus. He was tense, ready to spring. Well, so was everyone else, but Yong-guk kept a wary eye on him anyway. Young-jae had one of his hands behind his back, resting too near the gun tucked into his waistband for Yong-guk’s peace of mind.

Another light vibration on his phone. Yong-guk peeked under his jacket sleeve where he’d placed the phone so that he could read it surreptitiously. It said only: _Derek is also clean. And his men._

Yong-guk bit back a sigh and reigned in his anxiety. In his head, he willed Zelo to work faster.

* * *

 

Him-chan did not like the way Yong-guk was eyeing Young-jae. _Dammit, if he’d just listen to me!_ Him-chan just hadn’t had any solid proof that Young-jae wasn’t the spy—granted, Him-chan had to admit, Young-jae _did_ have a lot of circumstantial evidence stacked against him—but Yong-guk should have just trusted him in the first place!

Now, Him-chan’s gut was swimming with unease. More than unease, really. Something was about to happen, and Him-chan hoped to the heavens it wasn’t Yong-guk about to murder Young-jae.

Physically, his eyes watched Dae-hyun and Sam inch towards one another, but mentally, his thoughts raced, striving to see if he had missed anything during his conversations with Young-jae. Again and again, the words, actions, facial expressions looped through his brain. But….

No. Young-jae was just…he wasn’t…it didn’t fit him. He was too passionate and loud to be a spy, wasn’t he? Not that the rest of B.A.P. didn’t have outbursts of their own. Dae-hyun had his wild, rambuctious moments. Yong-guk got vehement when he was furious. Hell, even Jong-up could be an irritable monster without the proper amount of sleep. And Zelo, whenever someone dared to mess with his computers, would throw a fit….

Him-chan’s line of thought totally derailed as something like a block of ice speared his stomach. _Zelo…oh my god…,_ he realized.

Zelo! He’d been doing these background reports for Yong-guk, but who was doing one on _him_? He was a fucking hacker for fuck’s sake. Planting Young-jae’s ID would have been child’s play for him. He had an eidetic memory and technological IT mastery. Any intelligence agency would try to recruit him—well, except for the fact that T.S. already did, but who knew at this point? And it’s not like the rest of B.A.P. could detect his covert actions if he did them all on the computer!

Him-chan’s mind was racing faster than it ever did, and he was burning to _do something!_ But _what?_ Zelo wasn’t even here! That was what terrified him. Jong-up was out of commission and no one was watching Zelo!

And Him-chan couldn’t say anything because Zelo would overhear him on the earpieces. _Shit!_ Now what?? He had to find some way to talk to Yong-guk!

Except at that very moment, two things happened at once.

* * *

 

Dae-hyun took one more step and there she was in front of him. Sam and he and had reached the middle of the space between B.A.P. and Rodriguez. She smiled at him bravely.

“Dae-hyun...” Sam breathed out, voice low and trembling. Nevertheless, she held out her hands obediently. She knew she had to bring the plates back to Carlos now, and Dae-hyun could plainly see the fear in her dark brown eyes.

_I will not let her die!_

Dae-hyun threw out the arm that held the slim case and used it to shove Sam behind him, stepping in front of her simultaneously. His other hand drew the Smith and Weston P9 from his waistband and swung it around to come to a dead stop in front of him, aimed straight at Carlos’ head.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” Carlos bellowed, clearly furious.

“What? Dae-hyun!” Him-chan shouted at the same time from behind him.

Dae-hyun ignored them both. Sam was protected now. He had her safely covered. Anyone who shot at her would have to go through him.

He felt his heart swell with strength and resolve and relief. Relief that had started the moment he saw Sam standing there whole—not burnt or cut into pieces—but whole, and still as beautiful as ever, despite everything she’d endured. Her hands immediately clung to his sides now, holding onto him as her sole protector.

Even now he could feel her breath near his ear, and her arms encircling him, embracing him in their short reunion.

Dae-hyun stared down the length of his gun. He would _not_ let her down.

* * *

 

The moment Dae-hyun had changed the plan and pulled Samantha behind him—something Yong-guk had sort of suspected he’d do—Yong-guk saw Young-jae twitch. The boy’s hand had closed around his gun.

Yong-guk darted forward, lightning fast. He staunchly ignored Him-chan’s yell to stop and grabbed Young-jae’s wrist, squeezing ruthlessly. Young-jae immediately let go with a wince, twisting his head around to look at his leader—if Yong-guk was indeed the leader that Young-jae was loyal to.

Yong-guk pressed his tanto knife into the potential traitor’s neck, lightly so that it got his message across without drawing blood. Young-jae stilled.

“Not so fast...” Yong-guk hissed menacingly. Meanwhile, his thoughts zoomed. The C.I.A. spy would no doubt want to get control of the situation and turn it to their favor. Carlos, B.A.P., the plates—all of them a fantastic catch for any C.I.A. agent. Dae-hyun’s move gave B.A.P. too much of an advantage so the spy would have to act now.

“Hyung! What--” Young-jae whispered with no small amount of confusion in his voice. Yong-guk frowned.

“It's over Young-jae,” cut in, “Why don't you--”

His phone vibrated.

Yong-guk startled a bit, the tension of the moment—of making a move against one of his own team!—making his arm jolt. The phone slipped out a bit from its place in his sleeve, revealing Zelo’s text message to both Yong-guk and Young-jae’s eyes: _YJ is clean._

Yong-guk’s mind went blank.

Then, _WHAT?!_

Completely caught off guard, and highly confounded, Yong-guk almost didn’t hear Young-jae when he spoke.

“You...did a background check on me?” Young-jae murmured, voice incredulous. His eyes, though, Yong-guk saw all too clearly…his eyes shone with betrayal.

And then the next moment, both their attentions were wrenched to the front by the crack of three loud gunshots.

* * *

 

“I am truly sorry.”

That was all Dae-hyun heard before—

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

Both of Carlos's guards fell backwards with a thud, oozing crimson on each of their foreheads. Carlos himself was groaning and cursing on the floor, clutching his hand, which had also been shot, gun scattered to the ground. His blood dripped down onto his sleeve and pants, the red discoloration spreading by the second.

All at once, Dae-hyun realized no one was speaking. That they were all in shock. And that he himself, in fact, was completely frozen with astonishment.

Because those gunshots had come from _his_ gun, the Glock he’d had holstered on his left hip, the same gun that was now held by a female hand wrapped around his torso.

Slowly, that same arm began pulling away, taking the warmth of the body behind him with it.

Samantha stepped away from him and to his left. The fear was gone from her face, her eyes—all that met him was stone, a face so blank that Dae-hyun had no idea what thoughts moved behind it. She lifted the Glock and aimed it straight at the center of his chest.

In a voice hard and commanding, Sam said, “Give me the plates, Dae-hyun.”

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: We do not own any recognizable characters or organizations in this story. We are not making any monetary profit either. The members names of B.A.P. are only borrowed here to inspire our (and hopefully, your) imaginations. Any resemblance to the actual B.A.P. is coincidental, except in regards to Kang Ji Won’s, Kim Ki Bum’s, and the MV’s director’s conceptual ideas for the One Shot.
> 
> A/N: *hides behind keyboard* OMG, S and K, I think they might riot. *runs* You're on your own dudes!!! --C.


	39. Pawn Takes King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The CIA spy's identity is revealed, to B.A.P.'s detriment.

* * *

_Former Sahara Casino and Resort Lobby, Las Vegas, Nevada, USA_

In an instant, the doors to the abandoned Sahara burst open to reveal a fully-armed and armored SWAT team, which came storming in to block all the exits. Three men wore only bulletproof vests over their business attire, emblazoned with the letters “C.I.A.” on the back. They seemed to be in charge, giving orders as a trio.

The armed men who reached Carlos immediately put him in handcuffs, despite his moans about his hand. The other agents set their sights on B.A.P., surrounding them in less than a minute.

Dae-hyun noticed all this only peripherally. He was sure blatant shock had taken ahold of his facial features like it were cast in concrete. He only stared straight ahead, into the eyes of a girl he had wanted to rescue so badly just moments ago.

Samantha's gaze now did not match that girl’s, not in any way beyond their color and shape. Instead, these eyes belonged to a woman. A jaded one at that, who looked at him only with mild impatience.

“Hand over the plates, Dae-hyun. Quickly now,” Sam repeated her demand. Her eyes darted to someone behind him, but shied away just as quickly, as if she had not wanted to meet their gaze for too long. Her jaw tightened the barest hint, and then Sam reached over and forcefully yanked the plates from Dae-hyun’s grip.

“Sam...,” he forced himself to say. His voice didn’t quite sound normal and he struggled to keep it level. Deep in his chest, he could feel the shock ebbing away, leaving a jagged trail of denial and bewilderment. “ _Why?”_ he managed to croak.

Nothing seemed reasonable at this moment. Questions popped up like bubbles in his mind, but gave way to more and more. Dae-hyun floundered to catch them all but found himself unable to articulate anything beyond her name and the word, “why.”

One of the older C.I.A. men approached Sam, who had not reacted to his question at all, and handed her a black leather wallet. Sam reached back and traded the case for it.

“Well done, Agent,” The gentlemen spoke softly. The title speared Dae-hyun like a sword through the heart, and he watched, wide-eyed as Sam looked at the man with recognition and nodded, accepting the praise. She even offered the other agent the tiniest of smiles, though it lasted only half a second, before the stony mask was back again.

Two armored guys stepped up behind Dae-hyun then and yanked his nonresistant arms behind his back. His gun was pried from his grip and cold steel soon encircles his wrists, clicking into place too loudly in his ears. Hands searched his person, confiscating the knives easily.

Dae-hyun continued watching Sam.

For a second, she watched the men arresting him with a pinched look to her cheeks, as if she was working to keep her mouth shut. Finally, she lowered the Glock down to her side and made a pronounced effort to look over at the older man, saying, “Agent Hampton. Well done yourself. You figured out the coded message.”

“Well, after we found out about the F.B.I.'s involvement, it wasn't hard to…offer our assistance. They didn’t know how to read your communications without my help as your handler,” the agent answered. “However, we had to bring them up to speed at the same time, and they weren't too happy knowing that we spoiled their mission.”

Samantha—fuck it, the _spy_ —rolled her eyes, a sneer on her face that Dae-hyun had never seen before, “Well, it was their own damn fault for getting involved in our affairs in the first place. If they don't like that, tell them to take it to the Director.” The arrogant tone hit Dae-hyun like a slap to the face and it was all he could do not to gape. It was almost like a completely different person stood in front of him.

“Who _are_ you?” Dae-hyun’s mouth asked without his permission. Anger was beginning to bloom in his gut, now that the denial had been thorough smashed to bits by the conversation. The woman finally turned to him, considering his face coldly. Dae-hyun had no idea what she was looking for, but then she opened the wallet in her hand and held it up.

“My name is Alexia Haversham. I have been undercover for the ongoing investigation of Carlos Rodriguez, Taesung ‘T.S.’ Kim, and Derek Le for their multiple criminal offenses. As associates of T.S., you are all under arrest.”

* * *

 

The hostility in the lobby swirled like a living predator poised on the verge of attack. There was shock—of course—and anger, and the triumph that comes with the end of every case. But this time the triumph felt…tainted.

Alexia blinked and took a moment to reconnect with her inner self. It was good to be herself again in a way, after _years_ buried under Samantha’s personas and reactions. A part of her felt exposed, yes, especially as she scanned the room's occupants. Gazes of shock, anger, and disgust played across the prisoners’ faces in succession, but they could do little about it, handcuffed as they all were. The other agents watched B.A.P. keenly, though one blonde-haired man did sneak a glance her way every so often. Alexia ignored him and turned away, careful not to look at the revulsion in Dae-hyun’s face again. It had affected her more than she’d admit.

However, in doing so, her eyes met Kim’s, and she had to force herself not to recoil as the expression of betrayal assaulted her across the distance. She did _not_ display the guilt that overwhelmed her suddenly because she was just that good, but neither could she make the feeling completely disappear—lock it away where it belonged.

Instead, she continued to meet Kim’s gaze. Kim did not even blink for a few seconds. When she finally did, what replaced the betrayal was a look of bone-deep sorrow.

Alexia _had_ to turn away then, if only because it confused her. She expected betrayal, yes, and anger—fury, even—but sorrow? For what did she mourn? Her freedom?

A harsh male voice spoke up then, the rage she expected laced through it clear as day, “That was why you were with Kayla in the first place,” Yong-guk spat.

Alexia remained silent, only raising an eyebrow to indicate that Yong-guk's assumption was true. _They deserve to know the truth anyways after…everything,_ Alexia thought, because it was true. B.A.P. and Kim had gone to such lengths trying to rescue her. It had been so strange. At times, being Samantha Pham was almost preferable, because they cared for Sam so much. Sam gave them what they wanted to see…and, if Alexia was honest with herself, being Sam made her feel far less guilty.

“So you staged ‘being kidnapped’ to San Juan just so you could get closer to me?” Kim asked shakily. Alexia knew her well enough to know she was trying to hold back the tears. She avoided Kim's scrutiny and cleared her throat, trying to discard all emotion. It was ridiculous, really. The mission was ending. She’d done this many times before.

Clinging to her professional training with two mental hands, Alexia answered, “Not quite. The ‘kidnapping’ took me out of my original mission parameters. I was to report back to headquarters, when our apartment was invaded in the middle of the night by Gonzalez' henchmen, who took me to Puerto Rico.”

Alexia pondered her odds in getting to the other country in the first place. It had been a slight miscalculation on her part, getting kidnapped by Rodriguez’s henchmen so easily, but having arrived too late to save Kayla had been a heavy blow for her. Kayla had been her original mission, true—getting involved with her would have been an opportune position in spying on T.S. for the C.I.A.—but Alexia had found herself becoming easy friends with the girl.

The last day she’d seen her as Samantha, that day in the airport, held bittersweet significance to her, and she often had to tuck it away lest her emotions surface. In the face of Yong-guk’s burning glare, it was doubly important.

“So Kayla was just an assignment?!” he snarled, jerking against the CIA agent who held his arms around the back, handcuffed. “You got her killed!”

Alexia turned her coldest expression to B.A.P.’s leader. “I did no such thing. It was T.S. and his quarrel with Rodriguez. Maybe you should take a better look at what side you’re on.” Yong-guk blanched at her retort and shut his mouth with a click of teeth.

Alexia refrained from showing her satisfaction. While she’d grown close to Kim after they met in San Juan, and then close to Dae-hyun—in a way she was _not_ going to think about right now, no _way_ —and maybe even Young-jae, Alexia had always thought Yong-guk an arrogant, immoral puppet of T.S.

Seeing what had happened to Gonzalez only strengthened her view of him and her mission to bring them down. T.S. had to be stopped somehow. When the C.I.A. changed her assignment to Rodriguez, she’d been perplexed at first, until they told her the Le’s where in Puerto Rico. Attaching herself to _Le Yacht_ , and consequently Derek Le and T.S., was in order to lure out Rodriguez and regain the U.S. money plates.

And here they were, after Alexia had submerged her identity inside an innocent girl named Samantha Pham, finally back in the U.S., her mission accomplished, with bonuses to boot. They had Carlos. They had the money plates. And they had most of B.A.P. in custody.

Alexia tried not to think of what the C.I.A. had in store for the guys (and Kim) back at Langley headquarters. They’d be grilled for information on T.S. for quite a long time….

Agent Hampton fortunately drew her mind away from that uncomfortable bit of conscience by declaring, “Congratulations, Alex. You did good here,” he clapped a weathered hand on her shoulder amiably.

Alexia hesitated, but the touch had succeeded in shaking her out of her guilt trip. “Thank you, sir.” The reality was that she was a professional doing her job. Just doing her job…right?

“No need to be so formal, Alex,” Hampton chided gently. “I’ve known you since you were half as tall.”

Alexia forced a small smile and nodded, “Apologies. I’m still in the middle of switching back to being…me…and this was a long and trying mission. So many sudden plans. I’m sure I drove you crazy.”

Hampton chuckled in that low voice he had, but before he could reply, someone interrupted him.

“Sudden plans! You’re one to talk!” Yong-guk exclaimed, “You sabotaged _my_ plans every single time and made yourself a victim to gain our trust.”

“What trust is that exactly?” Alexia heard Young-jae mutter under his breath. However, Yong-guk didn’t appear to have heard him. _Troubles internally?_ Alexia wondered. _Yong-guk should really stop worrying about me, if he’s starting to lose his teammates. Young-jae doesn’t deserve—_

Alexia’s thoughts cut off abruptly. What was she thinking? That Young-jae didn’t deserve to be betrayed? _Hypocritical of you, Alex,_ her thoughts taunted, in a voice that sound like Sam’s, _because that’s just what you did._

Alex shook her head viciously to clear it. _Dammit!_ This was a side effect of pretending to be Samantha for so long, nothing more. “I played the victim solely because it fit into my mission objectives,” Alex explained, though she really didn’t know why she wanted to do so. Normally, she couldn’t care less if her targets understood her intentions. “You should be proud, really. B.A.P. was one efficient team. You made my job quite difficult.”

Yong-guk only scoffed. “Fuck you. You’re C.I.A. scum. A mole at that, the lowest of the low.”

Alexia huffed out a laugh, “Ha! You’re one to talk, Yong-guk, or did you forget what you did to Gonzalez in that sewer.”

Yong-guk glowered at her furiously, his dark eyes flashing, but he remained silent. He probably didn’t want to elaborate on any torture he did when the C.I.A. were right there listening to him.

“Enough. Alexia, we’ll debrief you about all that later. Wrap this up,” Hampton ordered his men sharply. Alexia wasn’t looking at him, but she could tell he was looking at her. Probably sensing her warring emotions and intending to remove her from B.A.P.’s vicinity as soon as possible. Alex couldn’t disagree with him there. She knew she was acting out of line. Hampton continued, “It’s past time the criminals be transported to their holding cell. We’ll book flights back to headquarters shortly. Go.”

The men wrangled B.A.P. out the door, where an armored truck awaited them. Him-chan and Young-jae still look rather shocked, while Yong-guk continued trying to glare daggers into her head. Kim followed them quietly, giving up no fight, but also refusing to meet Alexia’s gaze. Alexia almost winced at the devastation on her former friend’s face.

Alexia didn’t dare look at Dae-hyun. She knew she’d hurt him the most, and if Kim looked like that…Dae-hyun probably looked completely wrecked.

 _Shit!_ Alex scolded herself, _Stop thinking about them. They were not your friends. They were targets. And you succeeded in taking them down. You won._

Alexia looked up again at the last minute as the doors were slamming shut, just in time to see Dae-hyun staring at her from his seat. His broken expression twisted her intestines, the bubble of sentiment invoked squirming up her belly and into her chest. It was…it made her feel…ashamed.

“I have to say, Agent, I am impressed,” a soft, amused baritone jolted her attention away from the truck, “I never expected the spy to be a girl all along.”

Alexia swiveled to her right, immediately distancing herself from the new person. Her brown eyes met blue ones, which only crinkled in bemusement as she surveyed the rest of the man’s face. Platinum hair styled in a pleasing swipe across his forehead complemented an angular jaw. He was young. Alexia’s age or younger, in fact, but tall and muscled, with wide shoulders and a slim waist accented by his well-fitting oxford and standard Kevlar vest. Not a body builder per se, but defined enough to make the ladies flock to him, Alexia was sure.

And then he smiled, _and yep, he’s the sort who’s definitely used to the attention,_ Alexia concluded. She lifted her chin and stared at him coolly. “And you are?”

Her fellow C.I.A. agent—as his shiny badge proclaimed him to be—looked taken aback, almost offended by both her attitude and her question. Alexia couldn’t fathom why. She was pretty sure she’d never worked with him before.

“Gaaahhh! Watch it you fuckers!” Rodriguez was cursing up a storm as the C.I.A. duo in charge of him dragged him towards the door. As an enemy of B.A.P., Carlos would be traveling in a separate car. Lucky him. Alexia could imagine Yong-guk taking out his anger on Rodriguez otherwise.

“You can’t treat me this way! Someone should see to my bloody hand!” he hollered as Alexia neared. Alexia almost rolled her eyes. The man was pathetic. Sure, the handcuffs probably grated on the hand she had shot, but seriously, didn’t he have any dignity in defeat?

Hampton was more lenient than her, though, and called for a medic. Alexia took the halt in motion to kneel down in front of Rodriguez where the man was slumped to the ground, face scrunched in pain and fury. He looked up and immediately glared at her with loathing.

Alexia smirked. “What did I tell you? You can’t escape the American authorities so easily.”

Carlos snarled and lunged at her. In one fluid motion, Alexia shifted her weight and rotated her right elbow around to slam into the back of the man’s head. He nosedived into the concrete with a shout, only to be hauled up again by the men escorting him earlier. The startled medic warily resumed cleaning and bandaging Rodriguez’s hand at Alexia’s nod.

“I’m not playing the clumsy girl, anymore, Rodriguez,” Alexia warned him.

Carlos growled low in his throat, “I knew I should have done more than give in to slapping you with my ring, you bitch. With you dead, I would have won,” he spat.

“Wrong, Carlos,” Alexia replied, lowering her voice, “You would have only tried to kill me, and failed miserably. You want to know why?” Alexia leaned in, “Because you’ve lost your touch, old timer.”

Carlos jerked back from her like a severed rubber band, eyes wide, face pale. “That phrase…that was from…” Alexia only maintained his gaze with a hard one of her own. She wanted to see the realization dawn in his eyes. Finally, he swallowed his surprise and asked, “What connection do you have to Jonathan Cho?”

“Why don’t you take a wild guess?” Alexia tilted her head to the side, wondering if he’d eventually recognize her or not.

The former criminal-at-large blinked, peering at her face, then abruptly blanched. “You’re…you’re that little girl who escaped….”

Alexia was sure the smile she gave him then looked as if it belonged more on a shark than a human begin. The sudden and intense urge to pummel the man reared in her again, just like it did years ago. She wanted to make this bastard pay, wanted to avenge her deceased father, death for death.

But she closed her eyes and stopped herself. She had wasted too much time on him, and he really, really didn’t deserve it.

Alexia stood as Rodriguez was hauled away, still staring at her. Turning, she took a step, intent on finding Hampton, when the blonde man jumped into her way yet again.

“Smooth moves, Alexia,” he chirped, brandishing his white smile at her once more, “You’ve a store of hidden moves in that delicate physique of yours.”

Alexia raised an eyebrow. Delicate? If this guy was trying to compliment her, he sucked at it. So she brushed off his comment, “Not exactly my most sterling example of skill, agent. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She side-stepped the guy. He grabbed her arm.

“Perhaps not, but being undercover takes immense skill,” the guy amended, “And of course, I am one to know. I’ve been undercover many times myself, so I know what it’s like to return from those missions,” his blue eyes tried to bore into her, the hand on her arm softening atop her skin. “It’s a release, coming back into your own skin.”

His tone was inviting, sympathetic.

Alexia hated it.

Because it wasn’t a release, like he seemed to think, not for her. It was just…horrible, and confusing. The shifting of perspectives, the letting go of a character that held a bit of her soul, the mornings afterward when she’d wake thinking she was that person all over again.

The annoyance leaked into her reply, “Well, you do seem like the kind of person to spend time admiring his own skin.” She shook his hand off after that and turned away curtly.

Hampton and Casey stood by the door, talking to a new arrival on the scene. The man noticed her approach and blinked.

“You! Samantha or whoever you are,” he exclaimed, a finger coming up to point at her face. Alexia belatedly realized that she knew him. He was the F.B.I. guy who had spied on Rafael. “This was _not_ part of the deal! You were supposed to give Carlos over to us, as per our agreement after you killed that man in the bathroom. That was why I cooperated in the first place, let you use my phone, and helped you keep your cover after Rafael got ahold of you,” he ranted.

“Yes, because slapping me while I was already being tortured was entirely necessary,” Alexia retorted, folding her arms.

“You were about to give up your cover!”

“I was acting,” Alexia half-lied, miffed at herself, too. She _was_ confident that she would not have broken no matter what had occurred, but the words she had yelled had been too close to the truth. It was in her training to scream and yell during torture. As a woman, it was more effective than clinging to stoicism, depending on what she wanted her captors to think.

She moved on, “It’s Alexia, by the way, and _you_ were the one who were too slow. It’s not my fault you missed your chance to seize Carlos back at the motel,” she admonished calmly, “Your men should have moved in the moment I sent those two girls out.”

The F.B.I. agent shut his mouth then, knowing full well Alexia was right. His partner, an older gray-haired man, cut in.

“It doesn’t matter whose victory it is now. What I want to know is how you C.I.A. were so unaware of Rodriguez’s presence in the U.S. in the first place. You should be thankful we helped out your case.”

“The C.I.A. is more than capable of handling their own affairs,” the blonde-hair man spoke up from behind Alexia, though she hadn’t asked for his assistance in this verbal argument. He went on, “It was your involvement that slowed us down. You had a mole in his circle, and yet had not captured Juancalos long before today. Don’t try to sound all high and mighty now, saying you did us a favor.”

His stance was the height of arrogance, and the two F.B.I. men bristled. “You imperious little…” the gray-haired man began.

Agent Hampton physically stepped in between them and faced the F.B.I. “Agent Kennedy is right, though his wording is perhaps more inflammatory than intended.” _Ah, so that’s his name,_ Alexia made a mental note. “Both of our corresponding agencies serve the U.S. government, gentleman. However, we still operate under different objectives and levels of confidentiality. While I appreciate your assistance these past few days, any further discussion should be done only once we’ve spoken to your directors, I believe.”

Hampton worded his suggestion politely enough—more politely than Alexia knew she herself was capable of—but his tone brooked no argument. He was an expert mediator, really.

In the end, after ten more grueling minutes, the F.B.I. left and Hampton immediately ordered what remained of his team back to the C.I.A. temporary base of operations for some rest. Sam knew “rest” in this context meant debriefing, but was grateful in any case.

At least she might have time for a shower before she’d have to give her report.

Alexia yawned, closing her eyes, and in doing so missed Agent Kennedy’s moving into her field of vision. When she opened her eyes again, she found him staring at her as if she were a puzzle.

“What?” She was still annoyed he had felt obliged to defend her.

Kennedy jingled a ring of keys in his hand. “Need a ride or are you gonna make your way back driving an imaginary car built on your rudeness?”

Alexia peered at him blankly. Yes, she was rude, but she was running on fumes here. Kidnappings and torture, remember? And it wasn’t like Blondie here was the picture of courtesy either, not with the size of his ego reflective in everything he said.

“Or your silence. Whatever,” he added. “Name’s Eli, by the way. Eli Kennedy.”

He didn’t offer to shake her hand, thankfully, and it was for that reason that Alexia didn’t taunt him with a James Bond comment.

“So I heard,” she replied instead. She inhaled slowly, looking out the door and considering her options. Eventually, fatigue won out and she nodded. “Fine. Let’s go already.”

Kennedy took a moment to signal to Hampton and Casey that he was leaving. A couple of his men followed Alexia and Kennedy to a black SUV and they all piled in, Alexia claiming shotgun without a word.

The moment the SUV pulled out of the roundabout, Alexia yanked the seat’s side lever and stretched out on the flattened back. If Kennedy or his two cronies were expecting her to make small talk, they were so wrong.

“Wake me up when we get there.” With that, Alexia closed her eyes and went to sleep.

* * *

 

_Las Vegas C.I.A. Base of Operations, Location: Classified_

Young-jae slumped dejectedly in the corner of the holding cell that the C.I.A. had chucked them in once they arrived at…wherever the hell they were. Thick bars formed one wall, echoed by the tiny barred window opposite the door. No furniture occupied the space. It was all tan walls and hard flooring, lit by a trio of fluorescent lights. Young-jae hated it. If there was one nice thing about being the captured bait for B.A.P. all these years, it was the clichéd dark and secluded rooms he’d get thrown into. Was it too much to ask that the U.S. government afforded them a bit of darkness to get some fuckin’ shut eye?

Apparently so, because the space was way too bright. _Fuckin’ bastards,_ Young-jae griped, though for once not aloud. Instead, he sunk his head further into his hands, digging his elbows into his propped up knees. He was sitting on the ground, but he didn’t exactly give a fuck. The starkness of the room highlighted perfectly the hollow feeling in his chest. If Young-jae could just clear out all the junk in his mind like he could clear out the furniture in a room, well…well then he wouldn’t have to feel…like _this!_

Shocked. Betrayed. Hurt.

All things Young-jae had sworn up and down he’d never let happen to him again. When he’d found out what T.S. had recruited him for, and had met B.A.P. and discovered how easy it was to be part of something, to be actually be friends and comrades…it had been the simplest decision of his life. And the best he’d made.

Or so he’d thought.

Today had shown him what he’d so conveniently forgotten. That trust was a double-edged sword. That people damaged and deceived each other. And in the end, they fucked up. Even Yong-guk, their fearless leader. A man Young-jae had always looked up to.

 _Well apparently the trust didn’t go both ways,_ Young-jae lamented, the sound of his voice harsh, even in the confines of his own head. _I’m an idiot,_ he paused, _and you know what, Yong-guk’s an idiot, too, the bastard!_

His anger swept away the hurt and Young-jae latched onto it almost gratefully. Anger he knew well. The roil of testosterone and clenching of muscles that accompanied it were what he lived for. And when a good fight followed them, Young-jae would call it a good day.

He lifted his head now, revived a bit, and spied Him-chan headed his direction. The C.I.A. had not bothered to separate B.A.P. or Kim from each other, either due to lack of space or lack of time. Not that it mattered. Their weapons and earpieces had been confiscated and two guards stood just three feet from the bars, both of them armed. Young-jae spared the guards not a glance, instead meeting Him-chan’s eyes warily as the other approached.

Him-chan squatted down next to him. He inhaled uncertainly, averting his gaze, then sighed. “Young-jae…” he began. His tone said it all. He was feeling guilty, which meant he had suspected Young-jae, too. That conversation in the forest _had_ felt as if there had been some danger in it. Young-jae should have realized what it meant.

Young-jae didn’t want to endure this. “Hyung. Can you not talk to me right now?” he replied, voice strained.

Him-chan tensed beside him, sensing Young-jae’s mood. Eventually he cleared his throat, “I just wanted to say that—Young-jae wait,” but Young-jae had already stood up and moved across the bare room. Anywhere to escape that conversation. He was in no mood to forgive. Not yet. Not even close.

He veered far away from Yong-guk, even though for a split second the image of walking over and slugging the asshole across the nose was so terribly tempting. He stayed away from Kim as well, not because he was angry with her, but because their relationship had never covered these problems. She was his Noona, but not the sort he took his worries to. He aggravated her for fun. He had no clue how to calm her down, or, god forbid, soothe her.

 _Which is definitely what she needs,_ Young-jae thought, seeing the depression on Kim’s face. He wondered what she was thinking about most at the moment. They were all going to be transferred to Langley soon. They would be processed into the U.S. computer system, catalogued like dogs. Then they’d be questioned. In a multitude of ways. It was a game Young-jae knew well. But Kim? Unlikely.

Maybe Kim’s father would get her out before she came to that. Derek Le would do whatever he could to get his beloved daughter back. He could even succeed semi-legally if he threw around enough bribes. Then Young-jae snorted. What did it matter? It’d be a fat chance in skinny bitch hell that Derek would manage to break a deal for any of B.A.P.—because they were the C.I.A.’s ticket to T.S.

Could it be possible that T.S. himself would try to get them back? Young-jae wasn’t sure anymore. The thought sank him back into dejection and he leaned his head against the cold metal bars.

Dae-hyun came up beside him and copied his posture, adding his arms by leaning them on the bars underneath his chin. Young-jae didn’t bother looking at him. Dae-hyun had always known how Young-jae was feeling, feigned or not. Let him figure it out. Perhaps he could help Young-jae sort out his emotions afterwards.

“I can’t say I know how you feel, Young-jae,” Dae-hyun said (ironically), “But for the record, I didn’t think you were the spy.”

Young-jae blinked, still staring straight ahead. If he looked at his friend, he feared his eyes would seem too grateful. _I am though,_ Young-jae admitted to himself, a smidgen of relief creeping back into his chest, _I’m glad he told me that._ Of course, there was a chance Dae-hyun could be lying to him…but Young-jae chose to believe otherwise. He needed a friend right now.

“Thanks,” he breathed, barely giving sound to the word. Then, in a louder voice, just to rub some salt into Yong-guk’s wound, “No, I wasn’t the spy. In fact, I’ve never even _thought_ of spying on B.A.P. for someone else.” He tried to catch Yong-guk’s reaction peripherally, but Dae-hyun spoke up then.

“No, you weren’t the spy. Sam was.” There was something fragile in Dae-hyun’s voice that Young-jae had never heard before, and it pulled him back to scrutinize his friend’s face. Dae-hyun frankly looked devastated by Sam’s—er, Alexia’s—true identity.

All at once, Young-jae was extremely glad he had not taken advantage of Sam—Alexia, _dammit_ , whatever!—when she was all drugged up, because surely that would have fucked with his brain. Not that the whole situation wasn’t already completely fucked up. Yong-guk had held a knife up to his throat for fuck’s sake! What would he have done exactly if Young-jae _had_ been C.I.A.? Killed him?

“Fuckin’ shit,” Young-jae cursed. He just wanted to be as far away from Yong-guk as possible, and if it weren’t for these bars, he would be.

“Yeah,” Dae-hyun concurred, “it’s fucked up shit.”

Young-jae snorted again, but sobered right away. He patted Dae-hyun’s shoulder twice, commiserating. Dae-hyun breathed deep, the frown on his face deepening.

Abruptly, he turned to Young-jae. He kept his voice low. “I’m a straight up idiot, aren’t I? Falling for her? Letting her dance around us as if we were blind mice? God! I’m such an—“

“Idiot, yea, I got that part, Dae-hyun,” Young-jae can’t help but reply sarcastically. It was one of his skills; he couldn’t help it.

Dae-hyun shoved away from the bars angrily, though didn’t move away from his friend. “It’s just...” he starts, pausing to rub a hand through his hair agitatedly, “It’s…I really can’t _believe_ it was her, even though she held a gun to me! Fuck!” he nearly hisses, “She fucked me up in the head, Young-jae. Pretended she fuckin’ cared for me.”

“Don’t forget, she _actually_ fucked you, too,” Young-jae added, “Not that you didn’t, like, participate, you know.” Dae-hyun flinched.

“Don’t be vulgar, Young-jae,” Dae-hyun admonished, turning away. He was blushing, Young-jae realized. _Holy fuck!_ Dae-hyun had never gotten all flustered like this in the past. _Dae-hyun_ does _feel more for Samantha than all those other girls…. Shit,_ Young-jae thought, sighing.

“Don’t let it get to you, okay? You really can’t,” Young-jae advised, “She was supposed to spy on us. It was her job.”

Dae-hyun twisted around, spearing Young-jae with incredulous eyes, all embarrassment forgotten. “You’re defending her?!”

Young-jae recoiled, “Well…yea. Kinda.”

“ _Why?_ ”

“Why?” Young-jae just gave him a disbelieving look, “Dae-hyun, I’ve been a spy. Many times before, remember? Go-into-danger-as-a-captive-Young-jae? It’s my middle name.” Dae-hyun quieted at that answer, thoughtful. Young-jae did feel bad for him. He never cared for their enemies before, and probably wouldn’t start now, but seeing this side of things made it a little different. “Look on the bright side: you’ll probably never see her again.”

“Hmm,” Dae-hyun responded despondently. Young-jae knew that sound. Dae-hyun probably felt both relieved and irked at the thought. “I just…can’t forgive her. Not right now, you know? But…I want to…urgh, I just want to remove all those memories.”

Young-jae knew what he was referring to, of course, but didn’t elaborate. Dae-hyun didn’t need that at the moment. “I know what you mean. I can’t forgive Yong-guk right now either.” He clenched his hands on the bar, reigning in his temper.

Dae-hyun sighed. “So, what’s plan B?”

“I didn’t know we had one.”

“Yong-guk might.”

Young-jae huffed. “Well good for him.” Dae-hyun peered at him worriedly at his belligerent tone but didn’t contest it. What Young-jae felt was justified, after all.

He wrenched his mind away from Yong-guk and the anger that accompanied him and turned his thoughts to how they could possibly escape. Maybe Zelo could help them? With poor Jong-up injured, how could he? Leaning his head backwards this time on the bars, he closed his eyes. And hoped.

* * *

 

Him-chan was…a mess right now. They were in C.I.A. custody with no plan out besides whatever Zelo managed to concoct. Zelo _could_ technically do it, Him-chan supposed, but he couldn’t do everything by himself.

That was not what worried him most, however. It was the oppressive tension in this room, the accusing words left unsaid. Him-chan could not decide who needed his attention most. He was torn between comforting Kim—which he wanted to do above all else, damn the consequences—or soothing Young-jae’s fears, or talking to Yong-guk about what went wrong and how they were gonna get out of this situation.

But what could he really say? None of them had seen this coming. Him-chan was angry at Sam, sure, and had been suitably shocked at her true allegiance, but he was angrier at himself. The long ride here had consisted of reviewing his memories and wondering if he had seen hints but missed them. Unfortunately, he could not recall anything amiss. Well, besides the fact that Sam got into a lot of trouble, presumably by accident.

He sighed. Now was not the time to rehash that all over again. No, what concerned Him-chan now was picking up the pieces. Because there were indeed pieces. B.A.P. had never been so divided before. Looking around, he saw only shredded branches where they had once been a single cohesive unit.

He eventually chose to try Young-jae first, taking into account the guy’s tendency to start a fight. Plus, the glances he was throwing Yong-guk’s were worrisome.

However, that had not gone well. Young-jae clearly did not want to talk to him. Not that Him-chan blamed him. Luckily, Dae-hyun seemed like he was making some headway pulling him into conversation, and those two had always been good friends. Him-chan would wait to see if they’d calm each other down.

Turning, he strode over to Yong-guk and spoke in Korean, in case the guards were listening. Hopefully neither of them knew Korean.

“You think Zelo can break us out?” he asked quietly.

Yong-guk looked up at him, surprised. “All by himself?” he shook his head, “No…maybe. I don’t know.” Him-chan knew the look in his eyes. He was distracted.

“Yong-guk, stop,” Him-chan advised, “We need a back-up plan. Like Yesterday.”

“That’s not it, Him-chan,” Yong-guk denied, “I just keep thinking how we failed. I was going to get Rodriguez. I was going to kill him for killing Kayla. And I was going to bring back his head for T.S., but I’ve failed him.”

Him-chan felt his jaw clench and tried not to feel too annoyed. “ _That’s_ what you’re worried about? How disappointed T.S. is going to be? You need to focus!” he hissed.

Yong-guk’s eyes flashed, “On what exactly? Without our ear pieces, it’s gonna take Zelo a hell of a lot longer to find us. Oh, and who will be his back up? Jong-up can’t even run.”

“We have contacts here. Zelo can wrangle enough people to come get us,” Him-chan began brainstorming. Yong-guk snarled and turned away, looking like he wanted desperately to pace the room but didn’t dare go near Young-jae or Kim at the moment.

Instead, he fisted a hand and slammed it on the wall beside him, cutting off Him-chan’s words. “That would take time, Him-chan. Time we don’t have. The C.I.A. are going to have us in the air before Zelo can get anyone who owes us a favor to gather a team and enough weapons. And god knows whatever team he got would not be as good as us. Or what’s left of us, after this blasted mission.”

It was bleak news. Him-chan felt something heavy settle into his stomach. Neither of them addressed the topic of suspecting Young-jae wrongfully, though they could feel it hanging in the air.

This was bad. And apparently, Yong-guk preferred to ruminate his inadequacies at the moment rather than think proactively. Great.

Him-chan heard Yong-guk inhale and exhale, taking three seconds in and out. At least he was attempting to calm down now. “Go talk to Kim,” his leader said after a moment, “She needs…you.”

Looking over at Kim, Him-chan could not help but agree. And at least with Kim, he thought she’d most likely appreciate his presence. With a nod to Yong-guk, Him-chan headed her way and slid down the wall by her side.

His mind thought of several things to say, but his mouth didn’t utter them. He just sat next to the woman he cared for, the woman he knew was strong enough to avenge her mother and friend after all these years and yet retain her core of kindness.

But after Sam…shit. Was Kim going to be okay? Him-chan didn’t know. And that realization alone was enough to ignite a deeper fury about Sam than the fact that she had spied on them in the first place.

Him-chan gripped his hands, pressing them hard against the floor. _How are we going to get out of this?! Fuck!_ He was about to try slamming his head on the wall behind him to clear it when he felt a hand slip around his right arm.

Kim then leaned her head on his shoulder. She didn’t say anything, nor did she look at him, just curled her body against his side, accepting his support.

Him-chan let out a breath and turned his head. His nose took in the smell of her hair, and he closed his eyes against the brightness of the room. Perhaps this way, they could get whatever rest available, and face what was to come.

()()()()()()

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're curious as to other readers' reviews/reactions, please visit us on asianfanfics.com.


	40. Checkmate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kim and B.A.P.'s fate awaits them, hanging on a thread. And in the end, that thread must be severed.

* * *

_A bedroom in the Las Vegas C.I.A. base of operations/temporary safe house_

Alexia was trying in vain to take a nap. Her debriefing had taken two hours, followed by a manila folder full of paperwork that she knew was only the tip of the iceberg. Surely more awaited her back at Langley. And possibly more debriefing by the Director the minute she landed.

However, she would worry about all that later, once she set foot in Virginia. All that Alexia wanted to do right now was to embrace the blessed unconsciousness of sleep. But it eluded her. Every time she closed her eyes, her brain would kick into overdrive. It threw Kim’s voice, and Kim’s words.

_“Don't worry, Sam. OK? You're safe with me.”_

_“Yes, well, I’ve got a lot of employees. You can be upgraded now to being my sister, or something.”_

_“Don't you dare touch a fucking single hair on her, Rodriguez!”_

Alexia bit back the bile that threatened to come up her throat and sat up. She’d already taken a shower, but brushing her wet hair had reminded her of the last time she’d done it and how Kim had helped her work out the snarls. The brush was now lying on the carpet where she’d carelessly hurled it across her bedroom.

Such memories had only reminded her of Kim’s kindness, of how she had sought to protect Samantha. When the goons had come into _Le Yacht,_ she’d sent Sam away for her safety, and when she had found her at the beach, her hug had conveyed both relief and compassion. She had cared.

Alexia had punched her pillow then, with more force than the manufacturer no doubt recommended. She’d then set her alarm for the upcoming flight in a few hours, hoping that once she had a deadline for her nap, sleep would take her. But her eyes had closed only to be bombarded by images of Dae-hyun next. Of his gentle smile and compassionate touch. The feel of his muscles. The smell of his body. His voice when he had offered her a blanket after the yacht exploded. Alexia had actually wanted to give in back then, to indulge herself in his offered comfort, but couldn’t do it.

 _For this very reason,_ her mind reminded her, _it’s why you’re here while they’re in the holding cell. It never would have lasted._ Alexia rubbed her face with both hands. This was driving her mad.

The restlessness pushed her to her feet, reluctantly leaving the navy blue blanket and pillow behind on the bed. She went to the bathroom, shutting the door. The light here was bright, and it took a while for her eyes to readjust. When they did, Alexia stared at her reflection.

Dark circles lay below her eyes. She ignored them since they were there before. Her arm still carried the slash from the table saw, though the bandage didn’t look like it needed changing just yet. Her cheek held the impression of Carlos’ ring— _I don’t regret hitting him at all, and I never will. In fact, maybe he’ll give me a chance to do it again—_ and the rest of her skin sported several bruises.

Alexia couldn’t remember where she had gotten all of them. It had been a hectic several days. Worse than usual. _Is that why I can’t look myself in the face for very long?_ she wondered. Again, she tried to face herself, to hold eye contact.

But all she saw was Samantha, staring back at her accusingly.

 _Dammit,_ Alexia turned on the faucet and splashed water on her face. This was what happened when she stayed undercover too long. Her made-up persona started to feel like a long-lost friend—recognizable and familiar. And that would occur with a three month assignment. Alexia had been Samantha for two _years_. For Alexia, Samantha Pham was like a twin, a second skin—a part of her, like no other mask had been.

And now it was making her doubt herself.

Alexia cocked her hand back, about to punch the mirror, but drew up short at the last second, thoughts of the last time she had broken glass appearing in her mind. Dae-hyun’s face had looked so worried, and he had leapt in to hold her without a second thought.

The guilt flooded back in then, suffusing her cheeks with color.

Alexia ran from her reflection in the next second, rushing about, nerves wrung. She dressed hurriedly in jeans and a vee-neck shirt under a zipped hoodie and left the room, uncaring for the state of her hair. Phone, gun, and wallet barely had time to find their way into her pocket before she let the door slam behind her.

Her boots thunked down the hall in rapid staccato as she sought out the right door. _There._

Alexia burst into Hampton and Casey’s temporary office just as they were connecting with Langley for a verbal report. The two looked up at her entrance, surprised, though Hampton seemed less so. He probably just knew her better.

Knowing that, she addressed him first. “Michael, about that matter I asked of you earlier…”

“Alexia,” Hampton interjected, “I’ve already told you. It is out of my power to do so.”

Alexia shut the door and moved forward, “But what about Kim Le? I can see why B.A.P. would not receive any leniency, given their past, but surely Kim’s lack of professional association would remove her from their indictments. Her contributions in shutting down Gonzalez’s human trafficking alone should mitigate the charges against her.”

Alexia wanted to say something wholesome about Dae-hyun as well, but knew it would boil down to the fact that she had had sex with him, so she kept her mouth shut about it.

Hampton was already being stubborn about Kim anyway, by what he was saying. “How do you _know_ that was her intent? She could have easily been ordered by her father to shut down competition.”

“That’s preposterous,” Alexia snapped back, “Look, I know Kim Le, and for a woman in her position, she’s surprisingly ethical.”

“Not entirely true, Alexia,” Agent Casey jumped in, “We found Juancalos’s body in the back alley behind Caesar’s Palace with his brains blown to bits. Kim Le’s fingerprints are all over the body and the murder scene. She is as aggressive and out of control as the rest of her mafia friends.”

Outwardly, Alexia folded her lips in a grim line and looked down at the floor, but only to hide her slight smile. _Well, she succeeded in avenging her mother and friend._ Alexia knew it wasn’t exactly the most moral of thoughts, but she couldn’t help herself. Kim had truly suffered and she had deserved the kill.

“Aggressive, yes, but ‘out-of-control’ is pushing it, I think,” Alexia forced her voice to remain calm and professional, “Rafael was a psychopath who murdered Kim’s loved ones. Her crime was one of passion. You should take that into account—“

“What we should take into account is that you consider her a friend, Alexia.” That was Hampton, and his words made Alexia turn her gaze to him sharply. He was peering at her with a knowing expression and Alexia had to repress a frustrated huff.

“Say what you mean, Michael,” Alexia prompted, folding her arms.

Hampton sighed, “I think the one who needs to reevaluate the situation is you. This is not like you, Alexia.” His voice was indeed direct now. “You are usually not so emotionally involved. You do your job and well at that. I have never seen you have trouble letting a case go, especially when you’ve succeeded beyond the original goals. You retrieved the plates and captured Carlos. B.A.P.’s presence was extra, yes, but in a good way. Why can’t you just be done with it?”

To this, Alexia had no response. Well, none she wanted to vocalize, because…well, he did bring up valid points.

Hampton took her silence to mean acquiescence and turned back to the computer screen. The connection was up, just waiting for them to hit “call.” Alexia knew a dismissal when she saw one and headed back to the door.

“You should call your father, Alexia,” Hampton added a moment before she exited, making her tense. _Foster father, you mean,_ she amended. The next second, she moved on, shutting the door behind her and hesitating a bit before heading down the hall again towards the back door. Futilely trying to sleep again held no appeal.

Memories of Puerto Rico swirled about her head as she walked. Those simple months working with Hector while she awaited new orders from the C.I.A. had been peaceful. Alexia never aspired to be a foreigner living at poverty level on an island country, but the simple fact that she had Hector as a companion who greeted her when she came home made it feel so easy. The knowledge of his death squeezed her heart in a vise, but he was hardly the first person in her life to have died. Still, it appeased Alexia that Rafael was dead now.

Of course, that brought her to Kim and the months at Le Yacht. It had been only the two of them, becoming fast friends back then. _Well, I guess I should say it had been Kim and Samantha becoming friends,_ Alexia thought resignedly. She had been spying by the time she first greeted Kim and asked her for a job. Not that it had made that much of a difference. Alexia genuinely liked Kim and admired her. She hadn’t been lying to Hampton. Kim did have morals.

_Well, principles. I guess to some they wouldn’t qualify as ‘ethical,’ per se…and the same could be said of B.A.P.—at least, torture aside, it could be said of them. They really weren’t so bad…_

She was halfway around the small, concrete building when her phone rang.

Alexia checked another sigh as a name appeared on the screen. She answered. “Good morning, Director Haversham.”

The C.I.A. Director’s voice returned her greeting, _“Good morning to you, Agent Haversham.”_ Alexia rolled her eyes. How many times was he going to be amused by that? _“It’s good to hear your voice, Alex.”_

“Likewise, sir,” Alexia responded, her voice warming despite her annoyance about Hampton making this call happen. She knew it had been him.

_“Congratulations on another successful mission. How are you feeling?”_

“Very…satisfied, sir.”

_“You hesitated. What’s wrong?”_

Alexia did sigh this time and got straight to the point. “I’m sure Michael already told you what’s wrong.”

There was a pause on the other line, and then, _“Yes, he did.”_

“Your thoughts?” Alexia prompted, kicking a stone as she walked.

 _“The same as his, Alex. You know that.”_ His voice sounded tired and concerned.

“But sir! These matters are more complicated than—“

 _“Alex, stop,”_ he ordered, using that stern voice Alexia hated. It made her feel sixteen all over again. _“You are tired from your extensive mission—the longest one you’ve had to date. I can tell by your voice that you haven’t even slept. You know full well that your emotions won’t be stable until you get some rest. Just come home and do that first, ok?”_

Alexia tried again, “If you would just read my report first, you’ll see what I mean. I can give it to you right now over the phone if you like.”

 _“No,”_ came the immediate refusal, though it was tempered by what came next, _“I am not ordering you as your boss, Alexia. I am asking you as your father.”_ Alexia had to stop her pacing then, a wave of fatigue hitting her, as she listened to the pleading tone. _“You will feel more like your normal self after you recuperate. In order to do so, you need to come home. Take some time off, probably. Okay?”_

Alexia felt like agreeing, she really did. After her other undercover missions, she usually did take a small break, and her father liked to be around to talk to her during that time, to “bond,” he’d say. They hadn’t had a lot of time to get to know each other after all, before she went off to university, graduated early, and applied for the C.I.A.

However, the one word that stuck to her in what he’d said was “normal.”

She didn’t feel _normal_. This mission had changed her. In some ways she knew clearly; in others, only time would tell. All she knew for sure at the very moment was that the guilt in her belly was not going to dissipate with a few simple hours of sleep. She had already tried that anyway.

No, the unease in her stomach was urging her to do _something._ Something more. Something that felt more…right. Mentally, she groaned. A headache was surely just waiting around the corner. She could feel it.

 _“Alex?”_ her father spoke again.

She tried to play one of her trump cards. “Dad,” Alexia could almost feel his shock over the phone—she so rarely used such an informal pronoun for him. It was usually just “Sir” or “Father.” Alexia took a breath, “Just hear me out for ten minutes.”

“Alex, no. Come home and rest, first. Your flight will be later in the day than the criminal transport. I arranged it that way so you will get some distance. Once you’re home and settled, _then_ we can discuss it.” There was a brief pause, “I’m glad you’re okay, Alexia. I’ll see you soon.” He hung up after that.

Alexia was doubly frustrated now and she clutched her phone until her nails turned white lest she smash her phone against the wall. Both Hampton and her father were saying the same thing, but her gut was screaming another. This had never happened before!

Maybe she was being too much like Sam? No way she’d be so determined to mitigate the charges against Kim and B.A.P. otherwise, right? She pondered listening to herself if she were her father…and cursed. _Dammit! It’s basically as if I was asking to free them._ Alexia had to admit that maybe they were right; she needed to return to HQ. _It_ has _been a long time since I’ve been home._

Her feet started forward again.

Part of her knew, however, that once they returned, it’d be report after report. Criminal processing followed by legalities; inquiries followed publicity. It would be a long time until any of her testimonies would come up…if she filed it the official way. Which was why she had tried to talk to her father first. That he was refusing to listening to her made her want to shoot something.

 _Yes, shooting something sounds fantastic._ Alexia changed her direction and sought out a shooting range. If there wasn’t one set up yet… _I’ll have to improvise,_ Alexia thought resolutely.

* * *

 

_Holding cell, C.I.A. safe house, Las Vegas_

Seven a.m. found Kim looking up from a too short nap. Her neck cricked with the motion, the sound echoing in her ear. _No, wait a minute, that’s the sound of the door opening,_ Kim realized. Indeed, there was a tall man entering, similarly attired to their two guards. His presence yanked Kim fully from her grogginess and she moved to stand up, Him-chan lending an arm around her waist for balance.

All of B.A.P. eyed the man as he unlocked the barred gate. “It’s time to move out, folks,” he announced in a flat tenor.

Several more armed men entered the room at his direction, maneuvering themselves so that each of the guys was a couple paces behind the other. Kim herself was escorted out of the cell last, mainly because Him-chan had glared at the man who wanted to take her first.

She followed them all silently, noting the hollow feeling in her chest. _I’m being taken into C.I.A. custody…my life as I know it is over…,_ she thought morosely.

The group finally reached a brightly light garage, where the same armored truck was waiting for them. Even more guards stood ready by the truck’s back doors. To one side sat a tall, plastic port-a-potty.

“Oh, wow, isn’t this nice of you dickheads?” Young-jae snarked, “And how do you expect us to pee when you haven’t given us a drop to drink?”

Kim felt her eyes widening at Young-jae’s insolence, but kept her mouth shut. She actually did need to urinate.

“You may get refreshments on the plane,” one of the guards answered, “given you cooperate. Now this will be your only chance. Otherwise, you can wet your pants, your choice. Lavatory use in-flight will be restricted for security reasons.”

Kim eyed Young-jae, but in the end, he bit back a response.

After that, they were allowed three minutes exactly to use the toilet, while the guards formed a circle around the port-a-potty the whole time. There was no chance to escape.

Kim had previously not even fathomed a way to run away—more focused on sleep and keeping the tears at bay—though she was sure Yong-guk and Him-chan had. Even so, Kim felt a little more hope she didn’t know she had had burn away like a dying matchstick. With this set up, there was no opportunity for either fight or flight.

Again, she was the last to take her turn. Upon her exit, the guards began leading them one-by-one into the armored truck, locking their handcuff chains to the thicker chain welded under the benches where they sat. The sharp clack of her own handcuffs being secured weighed her stomach like a ton of bricks and Kim wondered if they’d let her out again if she said she was going to vomit.

“Agent MacDonald!” a voice sounded from the hallway just before the doors close. It was definitely Sam’s— _Alexia’s_ —voice, though Kim couldn’t see her since she was talking to someone near the front of the truck.

“Agent Haversham, what can I do for you?” the man asked. There was a polite undercurrent to his tone that Kim thought was deference. “And it’s Will, remember.” Oh, and apparently some attempt at flirting, as well.

“You’re taking them to the airport now?” Alexia’s tone did not return his hopeful sentiments. _God, how did this woman act as Samantha? She seems nothing like her!_

“Yes, ma’am,” Agent Will, or whatever, answered, more directly now. “The flight will take them non-stop to Dulles where transport will be arranged for the seventeen miles to Langley. They will not be unguarded at any time.”

“Good,” Alexia said, “And during the trip through Vegas? How secure will it be? I know Rodriguez has already been escorted onto his plane, but his was a single car. This is a truck full of people Vegas is quite a maze of trouble compared to Langley. Have you taken precautions for the routes here?”

There was a pause, and when the pair next spoke, it was clear they had moved away from the truck and lowered their voices.

Anger sparked in Kim’s chest then and she viciously stamped it out before it turned into depression, then sadness, then tears. _How dare she?_ Her thoughts went on regardless, _She lied to us, tricked us, arrests us, and now checks on how tightly we’re chained? Guess she’s paranoid, too._ It was wonder to Kim how she never once saw these emotions in Samantha.

 _Dammit!!!_ Kim realized she was thinking of Sam again. But Sam _wasn’t_ real. Their friendship was…was all imagined! It was stupid, _so stupid,_ of her to ever think otherwise. She wrenched her gaze from the still open door, shaking her head to clear it, just in time to see Dae-hyun craning his neck towards the front seat. A metal-grated window let light and sound through from the driver and passenger seats of the truck, and through it Dae-hyun could probably see through the windshield, since he was the closest to it.

 _Trying to catch sight of Sam,_ Kim assumed. The sorrow she felt was echoed on Dae-hyun’s face in the next second, and he blinked abruptly, looking back down before anyone else noticed him watching. She tried to catch his eye, but he only stared at his hands. A mixture of self-recrimination and frustration wrinkled his brow.

Kim understood how he felt.

No one else spoke and soon the doors were shut and locked from the outside. Only Young-jae fidgeted, the chains clinking with his futile attempts to get comfortable. The benches were unnaturally hard under her butt. Probably on purpose.

As the truck’s engine revved, the guards shouted orders back and forth to each other. Kim heard the garage opening and felt the center of weight swing under her as the driver shifted into reverse and back the van out. By the time it hit the road, Kim was lost in her contemplations of Yong-guk, and Him-chan, and Dae-hyun, and Young-jae…and what awaited them all at C.I.A. HQ.

She also thought of Alexia, but hated every minute of it.

* * *

 

From the side yard, standing on the gravel path that connected the front of the house to the back, Eli Kennedy watched Alexia watching the truck leave the temporary safe house. It trailed closely behind the lead car that held Agents Hampton and Casey, who would accompany the criminals on their flight. Alexia’s smooth-skinned face was a blank mask, her body rigid as a statue’s. Eli directed his gaze to the truck as well, as it rounded the corner, wondering what she was thinking.

Suddenly, Alexia spun around and nearly sprinted for the back door, hurling herself through it so fast Eli thought her long hair would get caught in the doorframe. Confused, Eli moved to follow.

Unfortunately, he didn’t exactly know which room was hers and ended up pacing the short hallways for a minute. He narrowly avoided a door slamming open, the rush of air it displaced breezing across his eyelashes. It was Alexia.

“Excuse me,” she said cursorily, not even looking at his face. The next moment, she had bustled around the corner and back out the same door as before.

 _Why the hell is she so fast when I’m the one with longer legs?_ Eli speculated as he tailed her. However, no answer came to him and Alexia further proved her speed of motion, because by the time he opened the door and peered around, she had slipped on a helmet, mounted, and revved the safe house’s single motorcycle to life.

“Where are you…” Eli didn’t bother finishing his sentence. Alexia couldn’t hear him above that engine’s roar anyway. He hesitated as Alexia zoomed away, worried, but not for a reason he could define.

Eventually, he returned to the safe house and headed for his laptop. There was a tracking system installed on it as a gift from one of his IT friends back home. He’d used it once and instantly declared it his favorite.

Eli had given Alexia a new phone this morning, since hers had been lost during her kidnapping and transportation to Las Vegas. She had not acted very grateful, but whatever. He had found her shooting at defenseless cacti and large, dusty rocks in the empty lot across the street, her focus so narrowed on her makeshift targets that she probably couldn’t spare more than a few neurons about a new phone. It was the standard CIA-issue model anyway, not very exciting on a regular day. However, at the moment, Eli was glad for her inattention. He doubted she’d thought to remove the GPS tracking device from the phone or even shut it off manually.

Plopping himself in the chair beside his bed, he clicked on the program now and kept an eye on the green dot moving across the screen. Alexia was traveling a strange route, her turns random. Eli couldn’t deduce her destination and wondered if she was the type to drive in order to settle her mind. If so, then he’d just let her be.

He had his hand on the laptop, ready to shut it, when Alexia’s dot stopped. It was a random intersection, neither a major one nor one close to any shops. Mostly residential, or so the map showed, and a gas station at the southwest corner.

After a pause, the dot moved on, but at a _much_ faster speed. Eli had no idea what she was doing now, or why, but ultimately dropped his hand into his lap, continuing to watch. It was possible she was an adrenaline junkie…most field agents had it, even him to an extent.

He punched in a few commands to transfer the tracking info to alert on his phone, then stood up to pack his belongings. His flight was booked later that day, the same as Alexia’s. He’d have a chance to talk to her then. For the time being, he had other things to attend to, such as prepping his team to leave Sin City.

* * *

 

_Armored truck no. 545 en route, Las Vegas streets_

Dae-hyun flung out a hand to halt his momentum as the truck driver slammed on the brakes. ‘Course, due to the handcuffs, he had to brace himself with an elbow instead. His right shoulder still hit the metal with a thud, sending a tingling jolt down his arm. Young-jae, who sat across from him, was not as lucky, and cursed vehemently as his head bounced from the hard surface.

Dae-hyun winced in sympathy and was about to ask Young-jae if he was all right, prepared for all the classic Young-jae sarcasm in response when the front door to the truck opened and the driver started shouting. The sound of a human head impacting a very solid steering wheel cut off whatever he was going to say.

A dark blur flashed across the metal grate and the other guard was knocked into his passenger side door, possibly cracking the window glass by the sound of it. _Or rather his skull, given the fact this is an armored truck with bulletproof windows,_ Dae-hyun thought.

The doors opened again, followed by the scraping of shoes on gravel as someone out there moved about. The truck shifted. Two dull thuds hit the ground shortly afterwards—the two unconscious guards being shoved out of the truck.

Dae-hyun was not the only one staring at the front of the vehicle now, the disbelief and exclamations of hopes (or worries) on the tip of his tongue. No sooner did he formulate a full sentence though, did the truck burst into movement again, accelerating to high speeds in seconds.

Lights flashed, and then the swerving began.

They raced down the streets recklessly, eliciting horn honks and screeching brakes all around them, and it was all Dae-hyun could do to hold onto the bottom of the bench in order to keep upright. Yong-guk was bracing himself on the back door with one long leg, scowling ferociously while Him-chan had an arm around Kim to protect her from jostling too much.

Young-jae was cussing up a storm.

“Holy _fuck_! Stop this fuckin’ shit right now! I’m not a fuckin’ ball in a lotto basket back here, you _fuckin’_ crazy-ass motherfucker! Learn to drive straight!” he roared, managing somehow to bang on the metal grate with sufficient force to rattle it. “Heeeeyyyy! I’m talkin’ to you, you fuckin’ idiot!”

The driver turned… _and holy fucking shit, it’s Alexia!_

Apparently, he’d said that last half out loud, because Alexia’s eyes shifted to his for a split second before she turned back to the road, jerking the wheel to the right. Everyone in the back pitched to the left.

“Fuckin’ A!” Young-jae yelled again.

“You really need to expand your vocabulary past the word ‘fuck’ okay?” Alexia hollered over her shoulder, aggravated. Thankfully, the truck seemed to be headed in a straight line for now. Dae-hyun sat up, muscles aching.

“Fuck you!” Yong-guk retorted immediately, over Young-jae’s protests about his speech being just fine, “What do you think you’re doing, huh? Taking us somewhere to kill us personally?”

The truck lurched forwards as Alexia tapped the brakes, then leveled out once she passed the intersection. Dae-hyun personally thought she may have done it on purpose to avoid replying to Yong-guk’s question.

“Answer me!” Yong-guk demanded.

Alexia didn’t bother turning her head this time. “Just shut up and sit down!” she told them.

Dae-hyun did so, hanging on for dear life. He teetered between saying something to Alexia or not. Demanding the same as Yong-guk, or simply asking her why she was doing this, but ultimately held his words at bay. He didn’t want to distract her from her—to quote Young-jae—crazy-ass driving.

He observed her profile instead, in between the bounces and swerves. His mind automatically noted the same straight black hair down her back, the slope of her neck, the shade of her skin. He marveled, however, at her face. She looked…different. Stronger, somehow. Perhaps the tilt of her jaw or the way her ears drew back slightly as her eyebrows lowered, eyes scanning the road and reacting in an instant.

 _She’s still beautiful,_ Dae-hyun’s mind thought before he was fully aware he’d thought it. Dammit _,_ he was truly pathetic.

Finally, the truck stopped and Alexia bounded out the door, slamming it behind her. Footsteps wound around the truck—Alexia’s—then Dae-hyun made out another set, running towards them by the sound of it. Harsh, low voices, and then the handle on the back doors clunked as the bolt was turned.

The sudden sunlight had Dae-hyun squinting and blinking to adjust his vision, only to see...

“ZELO!” Young-jae gawked.

It was Zelo who had opened the door! His face was lit up with more relief than Dae-hyun had ever seen him display, and he greeted them with a hustled, “Guys!”

Dae-hyun’s eyes darted behind Zelo. Derek’s private jet waited in the background, shining in the arid desert sun. _How far out of the city are we?_ The outline of a man stood at the top of the stairs leading to the jet. It was Jong-up. He was leaning heavily on the railing, his leg still bandaged, but it was definitely him!

Dae-hyun felt his heart soar at the realization that they were being rescued dawned on him fully.

“Zelo! How did you find us?” Young-jae blurted, a huge smile on his face.

“Manipulated traffic lights. Got your truck away from the C.I.A.’s lead car. The rest of your bumpy ride here though, that’s not _my_ fault. Now, come on! We’ve gotta go! They’ll track us sooner rather than later.”

“We need to get out of these handcuffs, first,” Him-chan pointed out.

Zelo blinked, “Ah, I see.” He turned around and said in a measured tone, “I assume you have the keys for those as well?”

Dae-hyun watched as Alexia tilted her head and eyed them warily. Her hands hang by her sides, seemingly relaxed, but Dae-hyun could tell that she was biting the corner of her lip slightly. He should know. He had kissed those lips quite a lot— _not thinking about this right now! No!_ He forced his brain to refocus.

“We had a deal,” Zelo prompted, more pointedly this time. Huffing, Alexia approached them, stopping a couple meters from Zelo, well outside his reach. A silence stretched between her and them then, one that seemed much longer than it really was. Dae-hyun could see her fighting with herself, the intensity practically rolling off her in waves, if not exactly projected by the angles of her face. He spoke before Yong-guk could start in on the threats.

“You got us, you know. You had all of us fooled,” he said. Though he had tried to make it sound factual—distant—he knew it didn’t work. There was too much disappointment filling up his head.

Alexia met his eyes at those words and something flickered in her brown ones as she looked at him. She swallowed heavily, and the next thing Dae-hyun knew, a ring of keys were flying at his face. His hands caught them instinctively, if only so they didn’t poke out his eye.

He looked up again. Alexia was still staring at him with that conflicted expression, which slowly melted into something softer. She was about to say thank you, Dae-hyun discerned—could almost hear the words come out of her mouth—for what happened between them…but then Him-chan chimed in, tone derisive.

“You’re welcome, you know, for all the rescuing we did for you.” Just like that, a wall seemed to slam down around her and she bristled, turning a cold glare to B.A.P.’s second-in-command.

“Don’t think that by doing this, you’ll gain our forgiveness,” Yong-guk added, glaring right back, “This matter is far from over.”

Alexia tilted her head back and looked down her nose at him. “I'm not asking for anybody's forgiveness,” she said coolly, “I completed my original tasks of capturing Carlos and obtaining the plates. You guys were all just bonuses. Unnecessary.” _Wow, that hurt,_ Dae-hyun admitted to himself, wincing at her dismissive tone. “That is all.”

Yong-guk barked out a laugh in return, reacting to a different part of her response than Dae-hyun did. Dae-hyun frowned, reviewing her words…and realized quite abruptly: _She doesn’t_ know _yet!_

“Ha! This will be your big mistake, _Agent,_ ” Yong-guk sneered her title, “And don’t come crying to us when you regret letting us go.”

“Ahem,” Zelo coughed, “Time!”

“Oh, right,” Dae-hyun said as he fumbled a bit with the keys to find the right one. The next couple minutes consisted of Young-jae urging him to hurry up (and getting a “shut up” from him in return), and a lot of chains and handcuffs clanging to the metal floor of the truck.

By the time Dae-hyun clambered out of the armored transport, behind his fellow teammates, Alexia had already walked off. He could make out her retreating form against the clear blue sky when he scanned the horizon, her black hair the most prominent feature he could see.

He watched her, surprisingly irritated. There was confusion and uncertainty, yes, but most of all, the beginnings of bitterness smoldered at the edge of his mind.

 _She didn’t even say goodbye,_ Dae-hyun thought, then snorted, peeved at himself this time, _not that_ I _care._

Resolutely, he turned his back to Alexia and faced the jet. “No, I definitely do not care about her. _Not anymore_ ,” he muttered aloud to himself. No one else could hear him, but he needed to verbalize it to make it a vow. He’d get on that jet now and not look back.

And Dae-hyun did just that.

* * *

 

_C.I.A. temporary safe house, 1 hour later_

Back at the temporary base of operations, Alexia walked toward the emergency meeting room. That wasn’t the official name of it, of course, but given the situation, everyone was calling it that. She hurried down the hall, internally talking herself down from freaking out, not bothering to conceal the turbulent emotions from her face. Anyone who looked at her would just assume it was for the same reason as them.

They’d discovered the armored truck was missing before they reached the airport. What followed had been a frenetic scramble of communications and police APB’s. Honestly, it had been a small miracle that they hadn’t found her.

But she had driven on all the small roads, sticking to residential areas with little to no metro units stationed, in a zig-zag path she barely recalled. What she did remember was turning on the flashing lights, making it seem as if her rushed driving was deliberate and entirely legal. No one ever called the police when an ambulance came barreling down the road, lights on and sirens blaring. She had counted on the same effect during the escape and it had worked.

Eventually, she had taken B.A.P. and Kim not to an airport, but to the dry lake bed south of the city, where Zelo had arranged for the Derek to pick them up. Making contact with Zelo in the first place had been…thorny, but Alexia hadn’t hacked his system in the first place without leaving herself a back door. In the end, of course, he had agreed, because he’d had no choice. There had only been a tiny window for action, after all.

Opening the door to the meeting room, Alexia came upon a rectangular table full of arguing C.I.A. operatives. Everyone was arguing about what happened and how, but turned to look at her. She scowled back at them bluntly, maintaining her façade.

“Where’s Agent Hampton?” she demanded, since that was watch they’d expect her to do.

“He’s just pulling in ma’am,” one man answered, “he’ll be here in just a moment. Please, take a…seat.”

Alexia had moved before he finished talking, setting herself down in the chair nearest the back of the room, acting as if her anger and impatience were too much for her to listen to him anymore. She glared at the table top and crossed her arms and no one else dared to speak to her.

 _Good,_ Alexia thought, _The less I have to talk to them, the more time I have to consider what the fuck I’ve done._

Part of her, the one that had responded to Dae-hyun’s words and the look in his eyes, was appeased. But as she had made her way back to the house, another part of her had reared up with a multitude of logical recriminations. _Why did you let them go after working so hard to catch them? Sure, you allowed them a second chance but it’s not like they’re going to forgive you for what you did. Kim, especially._

Her chest throbbed a bit with shame but she shoved it away expertly, just in time to see the door open to admit Hampton and Casey. Both of their faces looked thunderous.

“Please tell me we have found a lead,” Agent Hampton began.

“Or that we found the person responsible!” Agent Casey was far less composed, obviously.

No less than three operatives started speaking at once, offering their reports. Alexia didn’t bother listening to them, didn’t even bother moving, because a third person had entered and he was eyeing her with what could only be blatant distrust.

Eli Kennedy’s previous amiability was missing now as he stared at her. In response, she expertly raised a disdainful eyebrow then turned to look at Hampton talking to one of the techies. However, her mind was racing.

 _He suspects me obviously…but how?_ She ran the last couple hours through her mind, but like before, the memories were fuzzy. What crystallized instead were the pros and cons of her actions, and already, defensive arguments and actions were being formulated, just in case. She got Carlos for the C.I.A. She got the plates. Those were the original mission parameters. B.A.P., well, they just got a head start for now. It wasn’t like Alexia didn’t have tons of info on them. She could get right back on their trail once she was finished at headquarters.

Alexia was pulled out of her thoughts by Hampton’s fist slamming on the table, sending vibrations along its length. All conversations ceased abruptly.

“Are you 100% sure?” he asked, his tone barely restrained. The techie nodded frantically while alarm bells sprang to life inside Alexia’s mind, ringing insistently.

“Yessir,” the techie all but whispered.

“What? What is it?” someone demanded roughly. Oh wait, that was her. Alexia’s body had moved her to stand right next to the analyst without her being fully conscious of it. It should have worried her, but at the moment, the dread pooling in her belly was taking precedent.

The techie turned his scared gaze to her. She must have looked about to murder somebody because he flinched. Nevertheless, he managed to stammer out, “W-well, ma’am, the scans and tests are conclusive and then t-there’s, well, here, look for yourself!” His hands scrambled inside a thick plastic bag and emerged carrying the case Dae-hyun had given her. He opened it to reveal dark metal plates, took one out, and thrust it at Alexia.

Alexia took it.

It was heavy, solid, with what looked like the reverse engraving of the U.S. hundred dollar bill on the front. This wasn’t Alexia’s forte, and nothing _looked_ amiss to her. Then she turned it over.

There.

In small print in the bottom left hand corner was stamped the words, “Made in China.”

Her stomach dropped like a lead weight and she froze, her body’s muscles immobile as petrified wood. Her mind raged in complete chaos.

“The plates are fake,” Hampton announced to the rest of the room. And yea, hearing the words spoken made it worse. The room could have exploded right then and there and Alexia would not have been more shocked. She was…flabbergasted! Everyone was talking now.

 _When did they…the trips out of Puerto Rico! Dae-hyun went to China…_ Alexia realized. Something that definitely felt like humiliation was quickly making its way to the surface of her thoughts.

And then she heard Kennedy say, “I know how B.A.P. got away.”

And double fuck. Alexia looked up, her brown eyes connecting with vivid blue. Kennedy knew. Alexia let her eyes widen, because there was no point in hiding it now. Hell, she was fast starting to wish she _were_ petrified wood now.

Because she had fucked up.

Kennedy turned away from her and plunked his laptop on the table, swiveling its screen to face the rest of the room. Alexia recognized the tracking program immediately but didn’t say a word as she saw her own face pop up on the screen.

It was a greyscale, grainy video feed, but it was definitely her. She was even dressed exactly as she was now. Kennedy zoomed out to reveal a bright setting, the morning sun nearly blinding the camera itself, obscuring nearly half the feed.

_That decrepit gas station across the street had a camera. Shit._

The tiny Alexia in the video dismounted from her motorcycle and leaned against it, waiting. Soon enough, the armored truck pulled in next to her, only its front half appearing inside the top left hand corner of the screen. But it was enough, because the camera clearly showed how Alexia strode up to the door and attacked the two guards, threw them to the ground afterwards, and then hijacked the vehicle. A dust plume blew up in her wake as she peeled away into the street.

Alexia stood still. For the first time in a long while, her mind was truly blank. She had no idea what emotion to project. Silence reigned all around her, until someone spoke her name.

“Alex,” Hampton’s gruff voice interrupted her non-thoughts. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

The collective breath in the room halted, or at least, it felt that way to Alexia. Her lower lip moved, dropping open to speak some lie, as she so, so often did…but none came to mind. What lie _could_ she utter? The evidence was right there in front of her eyes, in front of everyone’s eyes.

B.A.P. had gotten the best of her.

 _“This will be your big mistake, Agent,”_ Yong-guk had said…and he had been right.

Alexia looked down at the table and swallowed. “Nothing, sir…I have nothing to say.”

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\\\ The End //

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaannnnd, that's officially it. 
> 
> We really hope you enjoyed this story for all its ups and downs. THANK YOU SO, SO VERY MUCH FOR READING!!! 
> 
> Wild loves, 
> 
> \--C.
> 
> P.S. If anyone is curious by the end and feels like they need more of this goodness, just go back and read the chapters with the spy. There's a delicious double tone to everything the second time around. Cheers!


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